


Mirror, Mirror

by GwendolynGrace



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gen, Internal Monologue, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Mild Sexual Content, More tags to follow, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Road Trips, Sibling Bonding, Worldbuilding, mild spoilers for s2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: Corvus and Gren both resume their mission to rescue the lost princes.





	1. Worse Than Death

**Author's Note:**

> The princes have hatched the dragon prince, but Claudia and Soren are on their trail. Lucky for them, there are others who wish to help them. Unfortunately, one is stuck in a coin and the other is chained in a dungeon. But a third ally is nearby....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mirror is not a mirror, an elf is a coin, and a hunter sets the trapped free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"Of all the treasures, artifacts, and relics in the lair of the Dragon King and Queen, they kept this close to where they slept."** \- Lord Viren
> 
>  **"You have found something worse than death."** \- Runaan
> 
>  **"I would love to try some Xadian fruit."** \- Commander Gren

Every single part of Runaan's body hurt. His knees and ankles were screaming from being folded against the cold stone floor; his shoulders and neck protested the pull of the chains that held them suspended; his ribs throbbed where they'd been broken; and above all, his arm burned with the pain of the binding's constriction. His stomach had stopped rumbling, at least, which was useful when the raven-haired girl tried to ply him with food and drink. His horn, where it had been broken off, fucking _itched_ , and that was just insulting.

He rubbed his head against the wall, trying to alleviate the itch at the base of his horn. It was impossible to get the correct angle, but it took his mind off the contusions. As he turned to the side, he took note of the white ribbon, glinting in the dimness as it caught and reflected every available lumen. Rayla's interference had doomed them all, but the fault was his. He'd wanted to show off his protègé--and they were paying the price for his pride. He should never have brought her. She was unprepared for the demands of their mission. And yet...she had discovered the egg. And yet, she was unwilling to uphold her oath to bring it back the easy way. 

He wondered where she was, if there was any possibility she had been killed. It would be kinder than the slow, agonizing dismemberment he was now experiencing. His left hand buzzed constantly from the numbness that spread from his biceps. His horn would grow back, given fifty years or so, but his arm would fester long before that. And Rayla, too, would lose her hand if she refused to kill the human boy.

On occasion, he could hear voices outside the little chamber. There was another prisoner nearby. Other than Rayla, he'd been the last of the party to fall, so it wasn't one of his--and besides, none of the others he'd brought would have been so talkative. It had to be a human. Curious. Runaan would never have thought that the humans warred against each other, but it made sense. They were so barbarous, so primitive. Naturally they also turned on their own kind. 

There were footsteps, and the tap of something heavy and metal bumping against the stone. His captor, presumably, come to inquire about the object he'd mentioned earlier. Not that it mattered. Runaan had no incentive to cooperate. "I am already dead," he'd said, and had to bite back scorn at the way the human mage had twisted his words around in search of meaning. Elven philosophy? He was as stupid as he was brutish.

But he was extremely brutish. First, there was the matter of the egg. What they had believed to be murder was in fact an act of kidnap. He hoped Rayla would succeed in bringing the egg back to Xadia. She might even survive, though losing her hand would end what might have been a promising career. The chieftains would doubtless hold the human princes hostage, as payment for the Dragon Queen's anguish. They might even extract blood justice anyway, and Rayla would lose her hand for nothing. Still, the egg would be restored to the Queen, and the humans would pay. It was a pity Runaan would not live to see this human confronted with the price of his treachery.

And then, there was the matter of the coins. The mage scattered them on the floor. Runaan scoffed at first, until he was given a reason to look again, more closely. The faces….

"You are a monster," he said, unable to contain his revulsion. 

"You're mistaken," the mage said, "I'm a pragmatist." He straightened. "I'll let you contemplate your choice." Leaving the object covered, the table beside it, and the candle to provide enough light, he walked away. Runaan could not tear his gaze aside from the faces trapped on the golden discs.

When the mage returned, about half an hour later, he brought another bowl with him. "Enough brooding, Elf, my patience wears thin." He whisked the covering off of the frame. "Tell me what you know about this relic, or I will seal your fate."

Runaan almost choked with fear and anger. He had thought the coins were an atrocity, but to see a Portal in human hands…. He saw himself through the glass--not his mirror image, but his opposite. How had the human not noticed that it did not show a reflection? Unless it only showed its true nature to magic-kind. Of course. He had one option: misdirection. He could not give anything away. "You have succeeded," he said quickly.

"Oh. Have I?" he sounded unimpressed.

"That mirror? You have found something worse than death."

"Then tell me. What is it?"

"I will _never_ help you," Runaan spat. 

"Then you are of no use to me," the mage said, predictably. He reached for his staff and began to chant.

Runaan tried to maintain his composure as long as possible. It wasn't possible. But at least the Portal was safe...for now.

  


* * *

  


By the time Corvus climbed out of the gully, the elf girl was long gone. He faced a choice: Continue to track them, or return and report. She had insisted that the princes were traveling with her willingly, that they were "friends" --but he was certain based on her responses that she had not told them King Harrow was dead. 

There was a good argument for picking up their trail again.

On the other hand, there was a logic to letting Amaya know that Prince Callum had apparently lied in order to escape with the elf and Prince Ezran. Why? Why were they heading east, toward the Breach? It felt wrong. It felt like it was above his pay grade.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned his steps back toward the castle.

"General Amaya has returned to the Breach," the guards told him when he arrived. "Would you care to see Lord Viren?"

Corvus shook his head. "No...no that's all right." He started to cross the courtyard, in search of food and a horse. But then he turned back. "Did...General Amaya send out a search party, by any chance?"

One of the guards shrugged. "I'm not sure, but Sir Soren and the Lady Claudia left yesterday," she said.

"To...look for the princes?"

"Yeah, I think so?" she said with another shrug.

Corvus stood in the center of the courtyard, thinking. Something did not add up. He'd been a master hunter for five years, and Amaya's tracker for the last six. The tactician he knew would not send two inexperienced youngsters when she already had him on the trail.

He ought to head directly to the Breach to find her, but his instinct told him that snooping around for an hour or two would not go amiss. He stepped back to the guard. "Just where is Lord Viren right now, any clue?"

"Oh, he's in his chambers," the other guard said. "Every day around this time, he spends a few hours in private study."

"Got it," Corvus answered. He waved a hand in thanks and headed into the castle. He'd only been here a handful of times, but in his experience, the best way to discover someone's secrets was to behave as if he knew where he was going. He knew where the King's bedchamber was, of course, and he knew that Viren's quarters were in one of the other towers. He knew roughly where the kitchens were, and where the library was located. He started in the kitchen, cadging a bite to eat.

"We've some Xadian delicacies, just arrived," the cook offered. "Though--Lord Viren ordered they're to be reserved for a guest of his."

"Oh? Which guest?" Corvus asked.

"Not sure," the cook said. "Most of us have learned not to ask where Lord Viren is concerned."

"I hear that," Corvus laughed. "So...these delicacies Lord Viren held for his own use...where did he ask for them to be delivered?"

Armed with the information from the cook, Corvus strode through the corridors to the entrance to Lord Viren's private study. There were no guards stationed outside. He knocked softly. When there was no answer, he tried the door. The handle turned. He eased the door open, keeping it from creaking, and slipped inside. Floor-to-ceiling shelves and cabinets lined most of the space, with the exception of tall, narrow windows on one side. The setting sun bathed the room in warm shadow. Over the mantel was a painting of Viren and Harrow in their younger days. Nearby hung a large painting of a girl with a sheep. It seemed highly out of place compared to the rest of the décor. 

Corvus took a step toward the wall-size painting, when he heard a tapping sound on the other side of it that made him halt. He dove for cover, finding it behind the floor-length curtains on either side of the windows. As he pulled the velvet around himself, the painting swung to one side. Lord Viren climbed out of the passage, tapping his staff on the stone. Heavily, he set down a plate of food, then turned to a glass case filled with all manner of implements and ingredients. He busied himself preparing a bowl of...something. Corvus dared to twitch the curtain a little for a better look. Viren's back was turned toward him. He couldn't see anything. But then, it had the advantage that Viren paid no mind to anything behind him. As long as he was silent and motionless, he could remain unobserved.

After a few minutes, Viren gathered up the bowl he'd prepared and ascended to the ledge again. He pulled the entrance shut behind him. Corvus waited until he could no longer hear the tap of Viren's staff, then hurried across the room. He pried the painting open slowly, ready just in case Viren had only pretended to follow the tunnel. As he'd expected, there was no one there, but one this side of the wall, he could once again hear a faint tap-tap as Viren made his way through the bowels of the castle.

Corvus followed the sound. He took note of the turnings as he progressed, in case he needed to find his way back out, or duck into a quick hiding place. He came to a spiral stair cut into the stone, leading down. Carefully, he took the first couple of steps, until he could just barely see around the bend. He couldn't hear tapping anymore. He went back to the top and doubled back to find a hidden place to wait.

It wasn't long before he heard a blood-curdling scream. It was followed by another. And another. He pressed back into the shadow of his hiding place. Whoever had made that scream, Corvus couldn't help them. But he could learn much, potentially, from whatever Viren left behind. He held fast.

Sure enough, Viren's staff tap-tapped its way up the stone column, but the figure that emerged could no longer be called human. His face was pale as milk, cracked like marble, and his eyes were black pools with vibrant, bright purple flames at their centers. Only Corvus's years of training kept him from gasping in shock. He stood, frozen in place, putting all his faith in the gloom of the corridors and the angle of the blind he'd found to keep him from being discovered. Though if Viren's...modifications had resulted in any special abilities, such as being able to see in the dark….

It seemed not. Viren walked in an unhurried, direct line, back the way he'd come, back to his secret passage and his study. Corvus would have waited until the tap of his staff receded anyway, but in this case, he needed an extra moment just to absorb what he'd seen. Amaya definitely needed to learn about all this--but not until he'd had a look down in that cellar. Dungeon. Abbatoir, more like. 

Heart in his throat, he padded across the corridor and down the steps. It was two full rotations before he could see anything properly, and what he did see made him almost stumble down the remaining treads.

"Gren!" he cried, rushing over to the young man.

"Corvus?" Gren asked. "Oh, Great Katol, is that really you?"

"It's really me," he confirmed. He inspected Gren's hands first: they were bloodless and the wrists badly scraped and bruised, but he would be okay. If Corvus could find the key. "That...screaming before. That wasn't you, was it?" Because if it was, the kid was in pretty awesome shape. Or maybe he was just terrified of torture. He certainly looked terrified, paler than usual and shaken. Which was unlike Gren, who generally stayed fairly upbeat.

"You heard that?" Gren breathed. "No...that was…. It was another, uh, guest--well, prisoner, I guess--yeah, we're prisoners. Did you...see Lord Viren when he left?"

Corvus nodded slowly. "Yeah…. And at some point, I'll want a full report on all that but for now, let's get you out of here?"

"Oh! Yes, please. That would be...very, very, really very nice." He smiled weakly, betraying just how much a toll his captivity had been taking.

"Any idea where the keys are?"

"Yes!" said Gren, and heck if it didn't sound like he was surprised that he did know. "Soren locked me up. He put the key...in that box," he said, pointing with his head toward a shelf on his left. 

"Right." Corvus. There were about six boxes. He picked up one. "This one?"

"No, uh, sorry...the, uh, the one over there." Another vague head flop. "Sorry. My hands are a little too numb to use."

Corvus snorted. It was horrifying, infuriating, endearing, and ironic all at once. "Strange, you not being able to use your hands." He began opening the boxes until he found a ring of keys. "Okay, how long have you been chained up?" he asked as he came over.

"Two days," Gren said. It was perhaps the most definitive statement he had made yet. "I kept track."

"Good on ya. Well, you're going to fall down when I get these off," Corvus told him. "Just fall. It's all right. You'll only hurt your hands if you try to catch yourself." He tried several keys before one fitted. "So...those screams, then," he continued, turning the release. The shackle popped open and Gren's arm flopped over Corvus's shoulder. "Anything left to save?"

"Um...I don't think so," Gren said grimly. "He...Lord Viren...when he came out--whoa!" he cried, falling forward as the second shackle opened and his knees buckled. Corvus guided him down and began rubbing his left forearm vigorously. "Viren...trapped the prisoner in a--a coin."

"A coin?"

"There's a pouch of them, over there on the counter," Gren continued. "He dropped the coin in with the others. I don't--it was ghastly." He swallowed, turning a little green. 

"Yeah, I bet." Corvus massaged Gren's right arm. "Getting pins and needles yet?"

"Not yet," Gren said, "but I think I can stand."

"Let's try."

Corvus got his shoulder underneath Gren's arm. It took two attempts, but they got to their feet. They took a few tentative steps across the room to test Gren's legs. His knees were still watery, but he got stronger with each turn around the tiny chamber. "I can't support you on the stairs," Corvus warned. "How are your hands? Could you crawl up?"

"I would crawl through fire if I had to, to get out of here," Gren offered fiercely.

"Well, let's hope you don't have to." He took a flask out of his belt. "Here. Drink a little of this, for strength."

Gren accepted the flask, two-handed, and lifted it to his lips. He exploded in a spitting, coughing fit. "Wh--wha--what is that?" he hacked.

"Just a little whiskey, lad, you'll be fine," Corvus answered. He wondered how much time they had before Viren returned, but even if they had all night, he wanted to get out and get as much head start as possible. "All right. You start up and I'll come behind, in case. When you get to the top, go right. There's an archway just across; we'll head for that and catch our breath before we try to navigate the tunnels."

"Okay," Gren said. He began to climb the stairs on four limbs. Corvus took one last look around the dungeon. On impulse, he grabbed the pouch of coins. Tucking them in his belt, he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, let's talk about that mirror. Did y'all notice that for humans, it's a reflection, but for Runaan, his image is rotated, so that his left side in the mirror is also his left side outside of it? That's got to be a clue.
> 
> This is my "season 2" road trip speculation fic! I am not sure where I'll go with it except to try to figure out what comes next, on the very scant information we already have.


	2. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bird is released; a party is formed; and a coin is retrieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"You've been my voice. Now be me. I love you; I trust you. Save the boys."** \- General Amaya
> 
>  **"Out there, in the wild, accidents happen all the time. Deadly accidents."** \- Lord Viren
> 
>  **"Who gives the best birdie kisses? Pip does!"** \- King Harrow

It took the better part of an hour to navigate the tunnels. Corvus quickly decided he couldn't go back the way he'd come, as they would inevitably run smack into Viren. But he didn't want to force Gren to stumble through the subterranean landscape when he was in bad shape. "Tell you what," he said when they'd reached a three-point path. "You stay here and get yourself back in fighting form. I'm going to find another way out."

"Right," Gren agreed. His hands had started tingling, if the way he was flapping them was any evidence. "Got any water?"

Corvus handed over his waterskin. Gren fumbled a little with the drawstring and cork, but he managed to lift it and squeeze out a mouthful. Absently, he signed his _thanks_ instead of speaking it. With an equally silent nod, Corvus turned to the right-most tunnel.

He followed the path, marking turns, until he found stairs leading up. Up was good. Up meant above ground. But the stairs went higher and higher before he found an exit, and when he did--he thought they might have a chance. He reversed his tracks to collect Gren.

"How are you doing?" he asked when he arrived.

"Better. Could use some food but, escape first, eat later," he said brightly.

"On that note...I think I've found a way out, but it's risky. I'll explain on the way. Fair warning, we're going up about 5 staircases."

"Can't wait," Gren said, without a trace of irony.

The passage opened behind a large hanging tapestry. Corvus dropped out first, and helped Gren, who was a little watery again after all the steps. "We're...just walking out through the throne room?" Gren whispered when he came around the cloth. Empty as the room was, his whisper seemed deafening. Outside, night had fallen. The moon was rising, making everything silver.

 _What are the chances there are guards outside?_ Corvus signed quickly to Gren.

Gren shrugged. _Maybe? There's no one here so--_ he broke off and pointed excitedly toward a cage on a pedestal. It was covered with a cloth. "Pip!" he whispered. _Maybe we can lift his cover, make him make noise, to get the guards to open the door, if they're there?_

 _Good idea,_ Corvus agreed. _If they rush in, we sneak out. If no one comes, we know we can slip out ourselves._

As quietly as possible, they moved to the cage. Gren pulled off the cloth covering the sleeping Callahawk. Pip opened his eyes, but to their dismay, made no sound. He cocked his head at Gren. 

_Shake the cage,_ Corvus signed. He followed his own direction. Pip rode out the storm, but still, made no sound of alarm.

 _We'll have to set him free,_ Gren suggested. _Out the door. If he flies out, the guards might follow him?_

Corvus agreed with a shrug and a frowning head jiggle. _I've got no better ideas, anyway._

 _Okay._ Gren picked up the cage. _You open the door; I'll open the cage._

Corvus pushed on the heavy handle. Timing was essential. He had to open the door wide enough for the bird to fly out, but not so wide as to alert any guards before they were ready. Gren lifted the catch on the cage; at last, Pip squawked loudly and shot out through the bars. Instantly, they heard shouts of surprise in the corridor. Gren dropped the cage with a clatter and Corvus threw the door wide.

"Oh, no!" Gren cried, surprisingly convincingly. "Pip's gotten loose! Help!"

Corvus joined in the call for assistance, though he was perhaps less enthusiastic. But to his surprise, the guards flew into a bit of a panic. Pip, for his part, provided ample diversion, as he swooped and shrieked and dove angrily at the guards.

"Okay, go, go!" Corvus hissed at Gren. The two of them hurried down the stairs toward the main entrance corridor of the castle. "Once we're clear, we'll double back for horses and--"

"Hey, come back here!" one of the guards yelled. They looked at each other. Corvus was all for breaking into a run, but Gren did not look up for that just yet. Gren, however, turned around boldly. 

"What's the--ah!" he shouted. Pip was diving right toward him. He turned to run, but his legs gave out and he stumbled to the floor.

The bird fluttered toward him and...landed on his shoulder. Once perched, Pip shook his wings and folded them in, perfectly calm.

"Uh...okay," Gren said in surprise. He climbed to his feet. The bird clung to his pauldrons. "Do...Callahawks usually..do this?" he asked Corvus.

"No. They don't," Corvus narrowed his eyes. "We should go."

"Stop there," the guard called. "We...uh, we need Pip back."

Corvus put one hand on his hip, as if annoyed. "Looks like Pip's decided where he wants to be. It's not Commander Gren's fault. Magical birds, you know. You can't make them do anything."

The guard bit his lips as he looked to the Callahawk, sitting contentedly on Gren's shoulder. "Well, maybe so, but...Lord Viren commanded that we're to see nothing happens to His Late Majesty's bird."

"Oh, I know all about that," Gren said quickly. "I've been very close to Lord Viren these last few days. He's asked me to look after Pip personally. You can go ask him if you like," he said, blinking with that farmboy innocent expression of his.

The guard swallowed. "If...Lord Viren ordered it, then….I suppose it's all right."

"Great!" Gren said, warming to his lie. "We're to take Pip to General Amaya back at the Breach. We need fresh horses, and supplies for the journey."

"All right," said the guard in confusion. "Now? It's...the middle of the night."

"Yes, we...can't delay, even until morning," Gren said, clearing his throat. "Well? Have someone pack us a saddlebag of provisions."

"I--should go back to my guard post?" said the guard. "But...the kitchens are down that way. Do you...need someone to show you?" He looked to Corvus. "The stables are--"

"I know where they are," Corvus said shortly. He turned and saluted Gren. "I will meet you at the gate in five minutes."

"Uh, yes, of course," Gren said, belatedly remembering to return the salute. Pip trilled once, bobbing on his toes, but not leaving Gren's shoulder. "Five minutes."

Corvus turned on his heel smartly and marched away. He didn't dare look back but could only hope that Gren was managing to walk normally. He continued toward the stables like a man on a mission--which, basically, he was. He did not wait to clear the entrance before barking orders to the grooms.

Ten minutes later, Gren came running up, along with a smaller figure in page's livery, carrying a satchel. "What's that?" Corvus asked, pointing to the page. In the gloom, he couldn't make out much, but he could see bright copper-colored eyes and hair as black as coal, in a long single plait.

" _She_ is a page. Her name's Dharti, and she's coming with us," Gren answered. 

"No. No way. She'll slow us down."

"She can ride with you; my armor's heavy enough for the horse."

"Gren--"

"It's. Important. She's coming with us." Gren stuffed a bag of supplies into the saddlebag and pulled himself into the saddle with ease, especially considering his earlier captivity. "We have to go. Do I have to give you an order?" he asked earnestly.

Corvus bit back an angry comment. "No," he said, frowning furiously. He leaned down and gave the girl his arm. She jumped, allowing him to haul her up in front of him. Her braided hair whipped him in the face. She hooked her knee on the saddlehorn. Without another word, Gren kicked his horse into a trot, opening up to a canter as soon as they got clear of the castle gate.

As they crossed into the open field between the castle and the town, a brilliant, purple light cut through the sky like a blade. It arced from the top of Mount Kalik all the way to the summit at the top of the Cursed Caldera, far to the east. Pip shrieked, took off from Gren's shoulder, and circled once before returning. "Dark magic," Gren muttered, his voice a mixture of awe and horror. The pagegirl made a strangled sort of noise, like she was suppressing a frightened scream. Instinctively, Corvus tightened his arm around her.

"Viren?" asked Corvus.

"No. My guess is Lady Claudia." He smiled shyly at the little girl on Corvus's saddle. "It's okay. We'll find them. We'll stop this whole foul business." He nudged his horse faster, cutting off further conversation while they rode.

Within a few hours, the horses were spent and the girl had fallen asleep. Corvus brought his horse alongside Gren's. "We have to stop!" he called.

Gren looked over, determination still reddening his face, but he nodded and pulled up on his reins. They slowed to a trot to cool down the horses. Gren let Corvus take the lead. He found a likely place to camp, so he coaxed his horse off the trail into the trees. "Take her," he said to Gren, who had dismounted. Gren lifted the sleeping page, who stirred but did not wake as he gathered her in his arms. Corvus swung down and led them further off the path. 

"Here's good." He staked the horses' reins so they could crop the grass. "There's a stream over that way," he said quietly. "I'll get water. You take care of the horses. No fire," he instructed as he walked away.

When he returned, Gren had laid out the blankets and saddlebags in makeshift beds. The girl slept on, snoring lightly. 

"Okay, who is she and why did we bring her?" he asked. He passed Gren one of the two waterskins. 

"Her name's Dharti," Gren repeated, which did not answer Corvus's real question. He drank deep from the skin, wiping his mouth before continuing. "We're taking her to General Amaya. She has information about Soren's mission and it wasn't safe to leave her behind."

"Soren's looking for the princes," Corvus countered with a dismissive shrug. "The guards at the gate told me that much."

"No, he's not," Gren said. "General Amaya left _me_ in charge of the search. She specifically did not want Soren to do it--Viren knew that and sent him anyway. She didn't tell Viren that you were already on their trail. And the moment she left, Viren had Soren take me prisoner. Why would they do that, if the goal was to find the boys and bring them back safe?"

"He wants the glory for his own children," Corvus said, but he heard how hollow the excuse was. "All right. Let's say you're right and Soren's motive is not pure. That doesn't mean--"

"Dharti assists around the castle. Yesterday afternoon, she was working in the kitchens. She said Soren came and helped himself to two heaping trays of jelly tarts. He was stress-eating, she called it. She was told to help him carry the pastries out to the practice yard, and she hung around afterward. He didn't know she was there, and he was talking to himself."

"Let me guess," Corvus said, pinching his nose. "He said something about his mission."

"Yes," Gren confirmed. "Something about how 'accidents happen' and how 'the right thing to do didn't seem very right.'"

Corvus exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Okay. Not encouraging. Well, we'll be at the Standing Battalion in another day."

"But if that light was Claudia looking for the boys--"

"--Then we can bring this little one to Amaya and march south with more troops," Corvus interrupted. "Or...I can go, now--well, after an hour or two's sleep--and try to head off Viren's children."

Gren looked away, thinking. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, we stick together. Amaya asked each of us to find the princes. That's what we should do."

"What about her?" Corvus asked, pointing to the little girl.

"She'll keep up. She's older than Prince Ezran--if he can make the trip, so can she." He dropped to the ground next to the blanket where she lay. "I'll take the watch. You sleep. We'll leave before dawn."

Corvus was too tired to argue. He laid down, resting his head on the other saddle. He closed his eyes. Five seconds later, Gren was shaking his shoulder. "It's time," he said softly.

Gren was right. The sun was not up yet, but its light was touching the tips of the trees above them. Everything was the soft grey of pre-dawn. Corvus sat up, blinking. Gren had saddled his own horse already. Dharti was nowhere to be seen, and Pip….

"Where are…." he asked.

"Dharti's washing in the stream and refilling the waterskins. Pip flew off around an hour after you went to sleep. He'll find us, though, I'm sure. Do you need to wash?"

"Later," Corvus said, shaking out the blanket before draping it over his horse. He hoisted the saddle and cinched it expertly. By the time he'd finished, Dharti came back with the water. She passed the skins around. She looked up at Corvus boldly. In the dawn light, he could see her skin was a light tan, sort of the color of wet sand. Those eyes were so copper they nearly burnished, and her hair was sleek and straight as it entered her long plait.

"I'm Dharti," she said. 

"Commander Gren told me. Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then mount up," he said, forming a stirrup for her with his hands. She hopped lightly into the saddle. He climbed up behind her and took the reins. He set their course as directly as possible for the Calderan mountain range.

"We're not going to the Battalion?" she asked, looking around as they rode.

"Change of plans," he said. He fell into silence, concentrating on the trail. She didn't pester him, which was a good sign. Maybe Gren was right and she wouldn't drag them down. 

They cut through the woods until they reached a ford, then picked up the road again on the far side. Corvus recognized the territory over which he'd followed the trio of fugitives--runaways?--before, but of course, there was hardly any need to track now. Not with the beacon last night pointing exactly where to go. The princes would be lucky if half the forces of Xadia didn't come bearing down on their location.

Dharti's head tipped backward into his chest, and she leaned to the side, nearly falling off. He caught her, but halted the march. "Guess it's lunchtime," he declared, as Gren pulled up alongside to hold Dharti while Corvus dismounted. She woke up and slid off, landing lightly. Gren, on the other hand, stumbled as he reached his foot down to the ground.

"Did you sleep at all?" Corvus asked him. "Like, have you slept in the last two days?"

"Uh...not really. It's okay, I'm not--" he yawned-- "tired."

"Right," Corvus said wryly. He looked toward the horizon. "Why don't you two sleep for an hour or so while I hunt us up some dinner?"

"We have hard tack," Gren replied. "We'll stop for a breather, but we have to keep moving."

"Moving will not help us if _you_ fall out of your saddle," Corvus insisted. "You need to rest."

Gren blushed furiously, but he had the sense to nod, conceding the point. "One hour," he said firmly.

"Fine." Corvus turned to Dharti. "Can you hobble the horses?"

She nodded. "Can I come hunt with you?"

"Not now," Corvus said, to her disappointment. "Maybe sometime when we're not in a hurry."

He turned his back on the two to find some easy game. 

It was the middle of spring, almost summer, so setting snares and bagging three or four rabbits was a fairly simple matter. He returned to camp with his catch. Truth be told, it had been more than an hour, but Gren was fast asleep against a tree. Dharti leaned against his legs, but scrambled to her feet when Corvus came up to them.

"I can skin those," she offered.

With a pained look, he rebuffed this offer, too. "We don't have time to cook them yet. Leave it until we're ready." He dug through the saddle-bag for some of the food they brought.

"Should we wake him?" she asked, looking down at the youthful face of their Commander.

Corvus glanced up at the sun. "We should, but I'm going to wash first. Give him ten more minutes, then wake him up and get the horses ready."

"Yes, sir," she said crisply.

He paused, thinking to ask her if there was any other reason Gren had brought her along. After all, Gren could easily have reported her information to Amaya by himself; he didn't need to bring the girl as proof. But he decided against pushing it. He'd get the truth from Gren eventually. Or not. Wasn't really his business.

He walked down to a still pond he'd seen during his previous criss-cross of the region. The water was too brackish to drink but it would serve to wash his sweaty stink away for the time being. He took off his tunic, sluicing the water up his arms and down his back. It helped, but it was not exactly as refreshing as the river would have been. Later, they'd get up in the mountains and there would be plenty of fresh snow. And also plenty of cold weather. Joy. He wished he'd thought to take a cloak from the stables, as well.

As he buckled his baldrics and belt back on, his hand touched the pouch which, Gren claimed, held enchanted coins. A morbid curiosity seized him. Though he dreaded what might greet him, he felt compelled to look inside. He slid the drawstring open and poured a few of the discs into his palm. Gren was right: the sight was ghastly. They were all different, but equally horrifying. In one, a tattooed elfin face looked back at him with an expression of anguish and fear, and worst of all--it _moved_. He startled, dropping the coins into the dirt in his surprise.

"Great Katol," he cursed, and fell to his knees to find the coins. They glinted in the sunlight, which helped, but they were scattered about, which meant a little scrambling to collect them all. Had there been three? No, four. He crawled about, looking for the fourth one.

"Gren's ready," Dharti said, walking up to him. "Oh, did you drop something?" She bent down near where he was.

"No, don't--I'll--" he protested.

"Here!" she yelped. "Is this--" she gasped when she looked down at the face in the coin. "What are you doing with these?" she asked, suspiciously.

"It's not your concern," Corvus said brusquely. "Give it here."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're a _mage_?" she accused.

"No. We took them from Viren's dungeon. It's all right. Don't be scared. Yes, they're elves--but they won't hurt you. I don't think they-- _can_ ," he said, trying to reassure her.

But to his further shock, she drew a short blade and threatened him with it. "Give me the others," she demanded, "or I'll kill you myself, _Mage_."


	3. What Viren Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a prisoner is missed; a confrontation is defused; a spell is averted; and a promise is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"Yes. It is [a short cut]. It's clever, it's brilliant. It's practical!"** \- Lord Viren 
> 
> **"Never trapped an elf before. Easier than I thought."** \- Corvus
> 
>  **"Why wear ourselves out walking on a road, when we can let the river do the walking?"** \- Prince Callum

Viren stood on the parapet, watching the arc burn and then dissipate. It had to be Claudia's spell. _Good girl_ , he thought, admiring her customary resourcefulness. She had the potential to surpass him, if she could prove strong enough to grasp her opportunities. As he had surpassed his own father. 

But Claudia was so like her mother, sometimes it hurt to see. Lynesse had been a partner in every imaginable way. She was as clever as the Archmage of Mollinas, as knowledgeable as the head librarian of Logos Island, and as ruthless as--well, as the Chieftess of the Sunfire Elves herself. Even after ten years without her, he missed her fiercely sometimes. Watching Claudia's aptitude and glee over her successes just barely removed the sting. 

Xadia had much to answer for.

As for Soren... when he was born, Viren had had such high hopes. It quickly became clear that Soren took after neither of his parents. He more closely resembled Lynesse's meatheaded brother, a similarity that had only grown as time went on. Some days, Viren wasn't sure he had spare brain cells for anything that did not involve sword fighting, physical strength, or feats of athletic prowess. _Most_ days, Viren was not sure how he and Lynesse had produced such a...stickjock. He was a good boy, though, and an excellent soldier. If only he had devoted a few more synapses to study. Still, with Claudia to look after him, he ought to pull himself together and do what needed to be done.

The light on Mount Kalik faded, replaced by the glow of the moon. It was late--well after midnight. He could still feel the aftershocks of his earlier spells. He should sleep, but he felt invigorated. "Short-cuts," Harrow had called them. In what world was a short-cut a bad thing? he wanted to know. To think how close he'd come to sacrificing his life for Harrow's. It was hard to believe that had only been five days ago. How much the world had changed--and how foolish he had been not to see it sooner. His "creative solution" had been much preferable to Harrow's, and yet, the result had been almost the same. The only real difference was that now, Katolis would be in the hands of someone willing to save it.

Sighing, he left the rooftop and sought his bedchamber. There was still much to be done, but until Claudia (and Soren) returned with the egg and without the princes, he could only wait. And stall Amaya, Opeli, and possibly the entire High Council. Then, there was still the conundrum of the mirror. The elf assassin had feared it, called it worse than death, but refused to clarify. No matter. He would discover its secrets, sooner or later. 

He returned to his rooms, changed into his nightclothes, and poured himself a cup of wine. As he lifted the cup, he caught sight of his white hair and chalky, cracked skin. "The only problem with dark magic," he told himself, "is the required maintenance." 

The next day, he rose early, dressed, and made his way to his study. There, he opened the secret cabinet and selected the largest Lightmoth in the case. After absorbing its energy, he looked over to the mirror--that was downstairs, in the dungeon, he remembered. With an exasperated sigh, he picked up the silver platter that had held the fruit and used it to check his reflection. His eyes had been restored, but the hair was still…. He reached into the terrarium for the smallest Lightmoth in the collection. That was more like normal; only a tiny bit of grey remained at his sideburns.

He called for a page to take the tray back to the kitchen and bring him a bowl of porridge. He hadn't fed Commander Gren for more than a day; it would probably be easier to let him starve to death, but he had not yet ruled out that he might need the hapless interpreter in the future. Once the page brought the food, he locked the door and took the passage down to the cellars. As he approached the hidden stairwell, he cursed. It was wide open. Had he neglected to close up the dungeon stairs the night before? No matter--without anyone to gainsay him, it hardly mattered. He descended the stairs to the dungeon. The empty dungeon. The dungeon where Gren had still been shackled last night. He slammed the porridge down on his workshop table. Curse it: the coin purse was also gone. He rushed around the corner down the side corridor, but the mirror remained in the empty cell. That much was a blessing, at least.

Furiously, he grabbed a bowl and filled it with water. Into the water went the ingredients for a scrying potion. He crossed to the shackles with a knife in his hand. Good: there was dried blood where the irons had scraped Gren's wrists. He pared the inside of the links, flaking the blood into his hand, and carried it carefully to the bowl. He gave the liquid a stir and incanted over it: the water settled and an image formed. He saw Gren riding in the company of a dark-brown-skinned soldier with a three-day beard and tightly bound black hair, and a pagegirl he vaguely recognized. Pity. He did not enjoy the idea of killing a third child.

Luckily, he had an entire garrison at his disposal to kill them for him. It would be a simple matter to tell them that Gren and his companions were attempting to interfere with the princes' rescue.

  


* * *

  


Corvus extended his hands, palms outward. The pouch of coins hung by its drawstrings between his fingers. "Take it easy," he said to Dharti. "I'm not a mage."

"Hey, Corvus, what's taking so--whoa!" Gren called out as he led the horses toward them, then halted in his tracks. "Dharti? What's going on here?"

They both began to talk at once. "He's got elves trapped in--"

"She saw the coins--"

"Dharti. Put down the knife," Gren said slowly. "I'm sure Corvus didn't mean to scare you. We took the coins from Viren."

Dharti eased out of her crouch, lowering the blade. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Gren said with urgency. "I promise. It's all right."

"Fine. I believe you." She put her knife away, mollified, if still a little upset.

"Don't like mages?" Corvus said, rising. "Never cared for them much, myself."

"Viren's a monster," she spat.

"Well, given that he took Gren there prisoner, I'd agree with you. But…."

"But what?" she asked, still defensive.

"Well...these here? It's a horrifying fate, I'll grant. But they're _elves_." He shrugged. "They're our enemies."

"What are _you_ doing with them, then?" she demanded.

"I'm...not sure," Corvus admitted. "But it seemed like a better choice than leaving them with Viren."

Dharti twisted her mouth in consideration. "That's true," she conceded. 

"So, are we all friends now?" Gren asked, moving forward to come between them. 

"I guess," Dharti said with a shrug.

"Then, can we put away the terrifying pouch of imprisoned elves and let's go?" Gren prompted.

"Fine," Dharti sighed. She stalked away toward the horse.

Corvus made a face to him to convey his confusion and disbelief. _Tell me again how you found this girl?_ he asked.

 _I...was in the kitchens,_ Gren signed. _She was already bagging up food._ He paused, as if struggling to decide what to say. _She…had the information._ He seemed to struggle and faltered again.

 _So?_ Corvus shrugged. _We could tell Amaya without--_

"I thought we were _going_ ," she called impatiently.

Gren blinked. "Right. Yes! Yes, we're going," he said, turning away from Corvus. _Later,_ he signed behind his back, as he reached his horse and hoisted himself into the saddle.

Still on his guard, Corvus nonetheless helped Dharti onto the horse. He pulled himself up after her. They rode along for a while, while the tension stretched between them in the silence. Finally, suppressing a grumbling sigh, Corvus said to her, "Why don't you tell me, if we're riding together, how you came to convince Gren to bring you along?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Who says I convinced him?" she asked.

"Because...we don't _need_ a page to come with us," Corvus explained. "So...why was it so important? What did you say?"

"Oh." Dharti sighed. " _That_. I told him that Lord Viren knew I overheard Soren and he was going to kill me."

Corvus glanced over at Gren. " _Does_ Viren know?"

She blinked at him with those unsettling coppery eyes. "Probably not."

"So you lied."

She shrugged, turning forward again. 

Corvus recalled what Gren had managed to tell him before she'd interrupted. "Already packing food," he muttered to himself. "You were running away!"

"Was I?" she replied insolently. "Or did I just know that you were going to _need_ a page on this journey?"

Corvus growled. He resisted the urge to toss her from the horse to teach her a lesson in humility. She was entirely too smug and insubordinate for his taste. Instead, he cast his eyes upward. "Pip hasn't come back," he observed.

"Probably won't," she said dismissively. "He's got better things to do."

Corvus laughed despite himself. He would have to have a word with Gren about her sass, but it could wait. He lapsed back into silence.

They rode steadily for hours, keeping the horses to a lope so that they had to rest less frequently. Finally, as the sun dropped low behind them and the shadows grew long, Corvus called a halt.

"If you want to be useful, you can skin those rabbits now," he told her after they dismounted. "I'll get kindling."

"I thought you said no fire," Gren commented happily.

"We're far enough away to risk a small one," Corvus said. "I don't fancy raw meat, do you?"

"No, not at all," said Gren. He looked upward. "I do wish Pip would come back. I fear we may have just released him back into the wild."

"Your young charge seems to think so, too." He took Gren's elbow to lead him away some distance. Even though he thought they were out of earshot, he signed just to be safe. _You know she lied to you, right? How could she know what Viren knows? Viren has no idea she heard Soren--if he did, she'd have been in that dungeon with you._

Gren glanced her way before grimacing as if frustrated. He tried to say something, again, and gave up. Instead, he signed back: _But we saw, she clearly hates mages. I think she was afraid to stay now that Viren's making his grab for the throne--do you know he was going to have himself crowned Lord Protector before Amaya and I showed up?_ He shook his head in disgust. _She's better off with us._

 _She deserted her post,_ Corvus pointed out.

 _I prefer to think of it as...reaffirming her loyalty,_ signed Gren, wrinkling his nose as his mouth twisted in diffidence. He opened his mouth as if to add more, but instead only said, "Let's go get that firewood."

  


* * *

  


Once Claudia finished casting the spell, Soren insisted that they get some rest. "We'll freeze up here," he pointed out. "Let's just get back to the base of the mountain and call it a night."

"It's already night!" Claudia said with a broad wink. "Oh, all right. You've got a point; it's not the best place to make camp. Still, you'd think all that armor would keep you warm."

"It's. Metal," said Soren.

"Metal's an excellent conductor of heat," Claudia claimed.

"Who said anything about its conduct?" Soren shot back. "Tell you what, you wear the metal suit next time we find ourselves in snow, see how warm you are."

Claudia snickered. "Relax, Sor-bear, we're done here. There's _below zero_ reason to stay." She cackled proudly. "Get it?" He rolled his eyes and led them back down the rocky path. "You're still out of sorts, aren't you?" she asked when they'd made it down to the first switchback and the path widened a tiny bit.

"I'm fine," Soren insisted. "I'm just tired. And sometimes down is harder than up, you know."

"I might be able to help with that," Claudia suggested. She dug through her bag of tricks. He was hoping she had more hot brown morning potion, but instead, she came up with a jar of something dead and slimy. Soren curled his lip. Early on, his parents (Dad, especially) had tried to interest him in magic, but it was so...icky. Also, it struck him as rather underhanded--not his strongest suit. He prefered to meet his problems head-on, honestly, with sword and shield. He hesitated to tell Claudia how uncomfortable all the magic sometimes made him. It was super useful, more often than not. Besides, she loved being able to show off her skills. He hated to make her feel like he didn't approve of her choices.

Claudia opened the jar and picked one of the slimy objects out. Along with an incantation, she made a sign in the air. The slime grew longer and longer, until it turned into a thick rope. "We can tie this off and scale down to where the horses are," she suggested.

He looked at her, looked at the rope, and looked down over the edge of the mountain face. "Uh...no, thanks. Let's just...stick to the trail. Okay?"

"Aww, Sor-bear, are you afraid of heights?" she teased.

"Nope," he said confidently. "Just of falling from them." He chucked her on the chin and winked as he continued to make his way down the mountain.

He heard the rustle of her trousers as she fell into step behind him. Soren concentrated on the path, and thought about what they should do once they'd had some rest. The spell had pointed clear across the kingdom, which meant the little brats had a major head start on them. Maybe Claudia could come up with some clever way to catch them up. But then what? Ever since his Dad had basically ordered him to murder the princes, Soren had told himself that he didn't need to worry about that part. "You'll know the right thing to do," Dad had said. Maybe what he meant was that once they found the boy-who-would-be-king and his wussy step-brother, there would be an obvious solution. He told himself that, but still, a tiny part of his brain kept insisting that it wouldn't be easy. And what about Claudia? She liked Callum. Didn't she? He wasn't even sure, but he knew she didn't care for it when Soren teased him. And no one hated Ezran, either. He was just a kid. But maybe, if they really had been kidnapped by one of the Elven assassins, he could arrange for the Elf to be the one to...to kill them.

He tripped on a jagged stone and nearly lost his balance. "Great Katol!" he hissed, stumbling around until he could right himself.

"Careful!" Claudia called behind him. "You must be really tired."

"It's dark," he said defensively. "And the stones here are...sharp and slippery. Watch out." He reminded himself to focus on one thing at a time. "Hey, any ideas about how we get to that other mountain?" he asked, to get his mind off his own task. She didn't answer. Maybe she was concentrating, too.

The next morning, Claudia did have an idea. She suggested they make for Napthal Valley, and hire a boat along the river east of the Brickle Falls.

"So...not magic, then," Soren confirmed.

"No. Why? Do you think I should?" She sounded excited by the prospect. It twisted Soren's stomach.

"No, not really. I mean, not if the river's fast enough."

"Oh. Well…" she drew out the word as if thinking, "maybe once we're on board I can conjure up a good tailwind."

"Ha, yeah," Soren agreed, more enthusiastically than he felt. "That's a...great idea."

"Don't worry, Sor-bear," Claudia said confidently. "We got this."

"Yeah," he said again softly. Sure, they did.

Once they cleared the bay, Claudia busied herself as if to cast the spell, but Soren looked about at the crew. "Wait," he said, putting one hand on her arm. "Maybe this isn't such a great idea."

Claudia followed his gaze. Sailors were up in the rigging; others were at work at the oars. All of them cast suspicious glances at the two siblings. "I...don't think they're used to magic, Sis," he said out of the corner of his mouth. "I'd hate for them to throw us overboard or something."

"Hm. Maybe you're right," she conceded, looking around. "I'll...cast something else first! A charm to make them pay no attention to what we're doing." She pulled out a book and flipped through the pages so fast, Soren wasn't sure how she could even see which spell she was looking at. "Here we go!" she cried on finding what she wanted. She scanned the page. "Oh, honestly." She pouted up at him. "I don't have the ingredients."

"We'll just have to let the river do the work," Soren said, putting his arm around her. "Cheer up, Claudia. More time for daydreaming about finding your boyfriend."

"He's not my--I'm not--" She threw his arm off. "Ooh, you're such a jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, you love it," he said, squinting up into the sunny sky. "Welp, I am gonna put this time to even better use."

"Exercise?" she guessed.

"You bet--whoa!" The boat rose over a swell. He lost his balance for real, that time, falling onto the deck with a heavy crash. Above his head, he could hear Claudia shriek with laughter. But he ignored it, looking straight up. Against the clouds, he saw a large wingspan soaring to pass over the vessel. It grew larger as if coming right for them. "Is...that a messenger bird?" he asked her.

"Huh?" There was a pause. From this angle, the motion of the boat was really, really calming, and Soren found it hard to stay awake. But then Claudia said with surprise, "Yeah! I think it is…." He heard her chanting, in spite of the superstitious crew. A moment later, he felt shade on his face as the bird spiraled down toward them. 

"Ah! Don't you dare," he shouted, meaning either the bird itself or whatever trick Claudia had in mind. But as he sat up, he saw that she had held out her arm, and the bird had landed there, quiet and still as if under an enchantment. Which it probably was. Claudia's eyes were that creepy, solid black that came from doing magic. 

"Good birdie," Claudia cooed. "Got a message for us?" She untied the band on the bird's leg. "Huh." She passed it over after reading it. Soren unrolled it. Huh, indeed. So. Gren had escaped. Terrific. Another loose end they'd probably have to tie up. Soren wondered if this wasn't all more trouble than it was worth. But then again, Dad was a lot smarter than he was. Like...a _lot_. So if Dad thought it was important to warn them Gren might be coming after them...then it was probably important to stop him if he managed it. Still, life had certainly gotten much more complicated in the last few days. Soren just wanted this whole business to be over. But what he wanted more than that, was to succeed, so Dad would look at him with the same pride and approval he reserved for Claudia.

  


* * *

  


As soon as Gren and Corvus were out of sight, Dharti put down her knife and laid aside the rabbit she'd been skinning. She wiped her hands on the grass, then reached into her pouch. In all the fuss, she'd managed to distract Corvus enough for him to forget to collect the coin she had picked up. She'd pocketed it when he wasn't looking. She held it now between her thumb and forefinger, staring at the figure inside. His long nose had two broad stripes tattooed across it, one of which bent up to follow the angle of his cheekbones; one eye was bloodshot and blackened; the pointed chin elongated as he opened his mouth wordlessly to cry for help.

"I'll get you out," she whispered fiercely to the Moonshadow Elf. "Just hang on a little while longer. I'll get you out…I promise."


	4. Some Kind of Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a secret is shared; an alliance is tested; and a spell is cast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"They don't know, do they? When they find out, they'll hate you."** \- Corvus
> 
>  **"I'm a mage!"** \- Prince Callum
> 
>  **"Just please, no more detours, all right? Or heartfelt speeches."** \- Rayla

Azymondias--Zym, as Ezran dubbed him--was hungry again. If anyone had told Rayla a week ago that she would be halfway to Xadia with two human boys and an infant dragon, doing her level best to forage every imaginable provision for them, on their way to bring the realm back from the brink of all-out war...well, she would have called them touched in the head. 

If anyone had told her that Runaan and the others would be dead, and it would be her fault...she would have denied it would ever happen, but she would have worried that it certainly _could_. Even if any of them had survived the battle, only her binding had been released, and that only because Zym had bitten clean through it as easily as if it were a blade of grass. Hindsight made her wonder, if she'd convinced Runaan to break off the attack, would they be here, now? Would Zym have released all their bindings? Or would they have all lost their limbs long before they'd gotten to this point? 

Runaan would tell her it was useless to second-guess everything. And back home, Moroch would say that events occurred as they did for reasons none could understand. He would have reminded her that if she had not defied Runaan, they never would have found the egg in the first place. He was philosophical like that.

She wondered if he would be philosophical when she told him Runaan was gone. 

And he was, gone. Just like King Harrow. The human hunter's words still haunted her: "When they find out, they'll hate you." She hadn't really paused to think about it, before. She had accepted that she would lose her hand. She knew the risk that she might die, but she was willing to give up her life if it made things right. If she could get the princes to Xadia and stop the needless bloodshed, it would be worth dying.

But today, everything seemed different. For one thing, they now had a baby dragonet with an appetite the size of the Breach, and about as incessantly consuming. They'd been walking nearly all day, but they'd had to stop at least half a dozen times to forage for the little fellow. It would be dark soon, and they had not made anything like the progress she'd hoped. "Ez, can you send Bait into that bush over there?" she asked. "He can flush out the birds and Zym can eat."

"What if the birds hurt Bait?" Ezran asked.

"They won't. He's too big; he'll scare them." 

"Okay," Ezran said, but not without doubt. He put the glow toad on the ground. "Go on, Bait," he coaxed. "Go menace whatever's in that bush."

The toad trudged toward the bush. Seeing him go, Zym panted excitedly and trotted to catch up. He pulled back into a crouch, wiggled a little, and launched himself into the undergrowth. Several grouse went flying; they flapped wildly but could not get properly airborne. Zym snapped and leapt among them. His jaws finally clamped over one unlucky bird's wing. He seemed shocked to catch it: he let go immediately, looking back at Rayla and Ezran as if asking them what to do.

"Well, get it," Rayla said. "That's your dinner."

"I don't like that he eats them raw like that," Ezran commented, watching Zym pounce back on the wounded animal. Bait, meanwhile, turned red as he crawled back into Ezran's arms.

"It's normal for dragons," Rayla pointed out. "Though adults prefer to roast their meat first. Well, that's him sorted. Let's see if we can find anything for us. I bet there are berries over in that thicket."

"I'll go get'em!" Ezran volunteered. "Watch Bait, okay?"

"Okay." She picked up the glow toad, who glowered at her, but turned a pleasant, neutral yellow again.

"He likes you," Callum said softly. He'd been sketching Zym all day, lagging behind slightly but keeping up, despite his distraction.

"More like he tolerates me," Rayla said. She put the creature down. He crawled off in search of insects to munch.

"No, not Bait. I mean Ez," Callum corrected. "And I mean...I can see why. But...we both know, there's something you didn't tell us before." He pointed to her hand, which had rapidly (and painfully) regained its normal color during the remainder of the the night and throughout the day. "The white ribbon was part of some kind of spell. You said before that you knew Ezran was still alive, under the ice, because it hadn't fallen off."

Rayla looked away. She'd dreaded this moment. "Yeah, that's right," she admitted.

Callum nodded. "And when you first came to the castle, you had a second one around your other wrist. One that _did_ fall off on its own."

"Yes," she confirmed sadly.

"So...Ez's-- _our_ dad--" he cleared his throat and tried again. "The King is--"

She couldn't trust her voice. She merely nodded, and looked up at him with shame in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, and her voice did crack a bit. "I...I know it probably doesn't help but--the thing is, I've lost people too, because of all this. Runaan--the elf I fought on the roof--if he'd escaped, I think he would have tracked us by now."

"But he had those bands, too," Callum said. "Around his arms."

She nodded again. "Yes. So if he did escape, he's close to losing his arm. Which will also likely kill him." She looked up fearfully. "But...you're right. About the other one. It means...King Harrow is dead. Do you...hate me?" she asked.

Callum blinked. "What? No! No, that's not--why would I hate you? It wasn't your fault. You offered to go back to the tower with me."

Rayla let go of a tension in her shoulders she hadn't been aware of. It felt good to talk about it, and better that Callum had not blamed her. "I just--I was worried you'd think we should have helped him."

"No," Callum said sadly. "It wasn't your fault. It's mine."

It was her turn to blink in surprise. "How could it be your fault?" she asked. "We tried to tell Runaan. He saw the egg himself and it didn't matter. He still went to carry out the mission. And you wouldn't have stood a chance against him and the others, if you'd gotten in their way."

"I know." Zym had finished demolishing the grouse, so that only a few feathers remained. He interrupted them with a loud sound like a cat screeching, and stretched his head up toward Callum's hand. Callum crouched to skritch the dragonet along his head ridges, which calmed the beast down again. "I just...I feel like I should have done more. But I couldn't even talk to him. Lord Viren was there and he--" he shook his head, abandoning what he was going to say. "Maybe you're right and it wouldn't have mattered to the King, either. Lord Viren said something about Dad just before it all happened. He said...he said the King knew about the egg all along."

"You can't believe mages," Rayla cautioned. "They're liars."

" _I'm_ a mage," Callum pointed out.

"Not a proper one," Rayla said before thinking, and then realized she'd stung him with the remark. "I mean--I don't mean you're not able to do magic, Callum. I just...I meant you're not a mage like the High Mage."

Callum still looked aghast. "Well, _Claudia's_ also a mage, and she's...uh…." He blushed hard.

"The same Claudia who sent those shadow wolves after me?" she asked while he sputtered. 

"He wants her to be his girlfriend," Ezran announced, suddenly at their side again.

"Ez!" Callum shouted, somewhere between embarrassment and scolding. He forced a laugh. "That's...not…. How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to hear Rayla say you're not like the High Mage. She's right. He's old. And he's kind of...intense." From the way Ezran widened his eyes, Rayla thought perhaps he'd meant to say something less diplomatic.

"Uh. Right," Callum said. He implored Rayla with his eyes to change the subject. She nodded.

"So...I was telling Callum that before we left, Lujanne said that she's going to get a message to the Starlore Elves of Treetop." She did not say that Lujanne had urged her to keep them moving, for the lights they'd seen the night before meant a mage was tracking them. Probably that Viren bloke Callum mentioned.

"Wow," Ezran said, sounding suitably impressed. But then he asked, "Just one question: What are Starlore Elves, and where's Treetop, and what does that mean?

"That's three questions," said Callum. "If you're going to play five questions, Ez, you have to ask them one at a time. I'll start--"

"You don't understand how rare this is," Rayla interrupted. She wasn't sure why she was so annoyed, except that it should have been obvious that this news was important. "Starlore Elves are some of the most secretive, most elusive Elves there are. Treetop is their city, it's high up in the trees of the Great Southern Forest, so they can be close to the stars at night, for their...their observations. If they're willing to help us, it's because of this little fellow," she explained, petting Zym's head now that he had grown bored with Callum. "It's really good news for us."

"Okay," Callum said slowly, "but just a couple problems with that. How are we going to get to this Treetop place? I mean...we're not exactly arborists."

"Psh," Rayla declared, slapping her hand through the air dismissively. "They'll have a way for us to get there. More importantly, they'll get word to the Dragon Queen, I expect. Someone will be sent out from Xadia to bring look after Zym and bring him home." She thought. Maybe. 

"I thought we were taking him home. Human princes, bringing a peace offering. Wasn't that the point?" Callum asked. 

"Well, yes, but that was before...when he was still in the egg. It's different now," Rayla said. 

"It'll be fine, Callum," Ezran insisted with confidence. "Everything else is working out; this will, too."

Callum glanced knowingly over Ezran's head at Rayla before answering. "Sure. Yeah. Everything is working out."

"Zym wants to know how soon he'll get to meet his mother," Ezran added. "How far is Treetop?"

"Well, that's hard to say," Rayla admitted. "You see...Starlore Elves are...well, the other elves don't see much of them."

"Oh...wait, wait, I think I get it," Callum said, rubbing his face with one hand. "You don't know where to find them, do you?"

"I...know where Treetop is," Rayla replied. It hurt that Callum had so little confidence in her. "Roughly," she muttered. "It's getting there that's the hard part. We'll have to go around Invern Bay."

"We've come so far already," said Ezran. He took her hand and looked up at her with confidence. "We'll be fine."

Zym trotted toward them happily. He looked like he'd nearly doubled in size already, which wouldn't have been surprising, given how much he was eating.

"Of course we will," Rayla agreed. "So, let's go." She scooped Zym up while Ez collected Bait and they moved onward. With any luck, they might get another hour in before dark, and before Zym had to eat--again.

  


* * *

  


After dinner, Corvus offered to take the first watch. Gren wandered off to take care of business, leaving Dharti to clean up from their meal, bank the fire, and set up their bedrolls. As she covered the flames with clods of dirt to douse it, she looked up at Corvus with her bright, sharp eyes.

"You're a tracker?" she asked, as if affirming it. 

"Yes…." he said slowly.

"Then you know how to recognize Trimble moss?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll need about six bunches of it. Tomorrow will be soon enough." She looked to the east. "There should be some in those foothills, if that's where we're heading."

"That's where we're heading," Corvus confirmed. "Why do you need the moss?"

She bit her lip. "Girl thing," she said shortly. 

He held up his hands in surrender. "Right. Say no more."

It didn't take long the next morning to reach the hills. He found the Trimble moss during a quick break. When he returned, Dharti was missing.

"Where'd she go?" he asked Gren. If it was the kind of "girl trouble" he thought, perhaps she was ill.

"She said she'd be back in a minute," Gren said. "I think she just...you know." He made the sign for using a privy. "How far to the Calderon Pass?"

"We're not taking the pass," Corvus answered. He pointed up at the face of the mountain. "There's been an avalanche. We'll go south and around, see if anyone saw them go through the village at the foot of the Cursed Caldera."

Just then Dharti returned, clutching something in her fist. "What have you got?" Corvus asked.

"Nothing. Did you find the moss?"

"Yes." He handed it over. 

"Are we going up there?" she asked, pointed at the mountain. "It looks like it's blocked."

"It is. We're going that way," he responded, pointing to the right, and the lower road. 

"Hm. All right. Only I need something else here first," she said. 

"What else do you need?" Corvus demanded. Why wasn't Gren taking charge? It was his idea to bring her; he ought to be putting her in her place.

"Pyrite," she said simply. When he narrowed his eyes, she clarified. "Anthium pyrite? Looks like gold? There's a strain of it just above our heads."

"Pyrite?" Corvus was starting to feel like one of those far western birds that could be trained to repeat what it heard. "Why do you need pyrite? And how do you know--"

She rolled her eyes, ignored his question, and looked at Gren. "You can go, if you want. I'll catch you up when I've got what I need."

Corvus looked to Gren in confusion. _Here we go again,_ he signed. _What gives?_

As he had yesterday, Gren attempted to answer. He pointed at her, began to sign, and came to an abrupt halt without making any sense. He seemed distressed almost to the point of pain, when he finally gave up and could only shrug again, starting at his hands like they betrayed him. 

"I know you're asking him a question," Dharti said, "but he probably can't answer you. Anyway, you can go. In fact, you should just keep going. I'll catch up."

"We're on horseback," Corvus pointed out.

"I know."

"We're not leaving you at the foot of a mountain," Corvus insisted. "You'll get hurt."

She snorted. "I will not get hurt. Just go." 

Corvus crossed his arms. "No one is going anywhere until one of you explain this whole business," he said angrily. "What in the Pentarchy are you talking about? Why is she giving orders? Why are you saying he can't answer my questions? What is _going on_?"

Gren opened his mouth, but the only sound that came out were a few strangled grunts. Dharti shook her head and sighed.

"I told you he can't answer. You can go or not, but I'm getting the pyrite now." With surprising speed, she leapt onto one of the large outcroppings. Without waiting, she scaled up the mountain side, steady as a goat.

"What is she doing?" Corvus said to Gren.

"Mining, I suppose," Gren answered, suddenly able to speak. "Should we go?"

He seemed wholly unconcerned for her, which was not like the Commander. Corvus decided to do a little investigating on his own. "Tell you what. You go. Walk the second horse. Follow the trail; it'll take you around a bend in about half a mile. Wait there. I want her to think we've both left her to whatever this is."

Gren glanced over Corvus's shoulder toward rock face. "Very good," he said after a moment. With a great effort, as if fighting against himself, he whispered, "Be careful." They clasped forearms. Then Gren took the second horse's reins, and turned to the right at a pleasant walk.

Corvus waited until the horses were out of sight. Then he pulled out his grappling hook. He swung it around, gaining momentum, and flung it high into the rocky escarpment. After testing its hold, he pulled himself up to it. Twice he repeated the function, until he found a spot where he could just see Dharti above him, on a ledge formed by a scar in the mountain. She was chipping at the rock with her knife. She flaked off large chunks, which glinted in the midday sun as she dropped them into her bag.

Once she had a number of handfuls of the rock, Dharti sat on the edge and lowered herself back onto the mountain face. She began to climb down, searching for toeholds without fear or hesitation. She scrambled all the way back to the road, but did not immediately follow the trail. Instead, she dropped to sit in the scrub at the shoulder. 

Slowly, Corvus coiled his chain and hook. He followed her path down, trying to stay out of sight as much as he could, but soon enough he had to hang over the edge. He looked down frequently to check on her, but she was intent on whatever was in her lap. When he reached the bottom, he crouched down to spy without her seeing.

Dharti had laid the moss in a little nest. Something gold glinted at the center the pile. She picked up the gold object and then held up a smooth white stone about the same size. She then put down the gold item and lifted up one of the flaked rocks she had just collected. As he watched, she rubbed the outside of the rock between her fingers. A yelllow powder released in the air. It sparkled, but rather than settle over the ground before her, it hung suspended. She then passed the white stone through the cloud three times in a rapid back and forth motion. The cloud remained, but the white stone now glowed yellow-gold. Then she picked up the gold piece from the bed of moss, and pressed it together to the stone. Holding them tight between right thumb and forefinger, she snapped her left hand at the edge of the moss. It burst into flame. She dropped the contents of her right hand into the fire. Then she rose and stood back.

Corvus pounced. He grabbed her about the arms, pinning them to her waist with his chains. "Magic!" he hissed, pulling her further from the fire. She fought back, kicking at him, twisting to break his grip. He clung tighter. 

" _Aurum ignis liberi!_ " she shouted. "Let go! Let _go_...it's working! _Aurum ignis_ \--"

"You were going to kill me for using magic--but you're a mage yourself?" he accused.

"I'm _not_ a filthy mage," she insisted. With a burst of strength and speed, she pulled them both closer to the flame.

"Don't--" he warned, but she slipped downward, wriggling out of the looped chain. He grabbed for her but she hopped away. She reached directly into the fire and pulled out both coin and stone. Ignoring the heat, she held both discs together with thumbs and forefingers, and pushed hard, the stone into the coin. To Corvus's shock, a purple light began to fragment from the far side of the coin. 

Dharti danced away from him, pressing out on the coin, a look of utter determination and dread on her tan face. She repeated the chant; the purple rays grew more distinct. And then the scream begain. It cut in as if its owner had been screaming for some time. As Corvus watched, frozen in awe, the purple light and the screams coalesced into the form of an elf. He was shirtless and beaten; one horn was missing and the flesh of his left arm was a sickening darker purple than the right arm. Both his arms were covered with intricate blue tattoos of interlocked circles, lines, diamonds, and crescents. His chest and face were also decorated, and his long white hair hung partly braided, partly loose, halfway down his back. His scream subsided into heavy, deep gasps for air. He fell to the ground, legs curled up, his bad arm thrown over his face to protect his eyes from the sun.

Dharti knelt next to him and held out her hand to gently help him sit up. "It's all right. I told you, I'd get you out."


	5. Talking Another Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which information is exchanged; the balance of power is shifted; and a suspicion is confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"Who me? I'm just a simple human girl, who likes the human things, like...bread, and complaining all the time."** \- Rayla
> 
>  **"I am already dead."** \- Runaan
> 
>  **"Uh, no. No, totally not, just a standard Dad chat. What?"** \- Soren

Runaan blinked in the bright sunlight. His whole body seemed to be on fire. The last thing he remembered properly was the mage showing him the Portal, and then unspeakable pain as his entire being was forced into the gold disc. The rest had been a nightmarish state of nothingness--the vague sense of suspension, the pressure and cramped feeling of two-dimensionality, and mostly darkness. He had no idea how long he'd been trapped. Now, he could breathe again, at least, but he had new problems to assess. He was outside, facing two strangers.

The male stood a few feet away, holding a grappling hook on a chain. As for the other…

 _"You're safe,"_ she said to him in his own language, but heavily accented. _"We are not loyal to the mage. My name is Dhartivindrim haav Naphthethvi baal Hupta, of the Burning Sands. Call me Dharti."_ She cocked her head to the human behind her. _"He and his companion are looking for the human princes, who travel with a Moonshadow elf. One of yours?_ "

Runaan nodded weakly. _"She's called Rayla,"_ he said softly. _"My name is Runaan Tameinsin of Clan Caeruluni."_ Formalities observed, he eyed her curiously, and added, _"You're...of the blood."_ He felt stupid and slow for saying it, when she'd already given her family and clan names. But he was still in shock, he supposed, which explained his clinical sense of detachment, and this situation was...highly confusing. He felt twice as disoriented as he had in that infernal coin.

She nodded and held up her hand, wiggling five fingers. _"Our tribe trains eligible half-bloods as spies,"_ she confirmed. _"I've been in Katolis for the last three months. But now you and your party set some things in motion that the elders need to hear about."_

Behind her, the human male made a move as if to disrupt them. Runaan leapt to his feet, ready to defend himself...and fell down just as quickly. His legs were rubber. He cried out in pain despite his training: he'd reflexively tried to catch himself with his left hand. His arm protested most strenuously. The half-elf, meanwhile, held out her arms to bar the human's progress toward him.

"Don't!" she said to the man. "He's hurt. He's no threat to you."

"I want answers, Dharti, **now** ," the man demanded. "You're no page. Who are you, how did you do that…. What's this about?"

She rose to face the other, but instead of speaking, pointed down the path. Another human rode toward them, leading a second horse. Seeing the group of them, the rider urged his mount faster. Dharti waited until the newcomer arrived. Though he was broader than any of them, something about his face made him appear younger than the others, freckled and open as it was. He took in the scene and dismounted hurriedly.

"Those screams--I--could hear them," he said by way of explanation. He gazed down at Runaan with open fascination. "You're the other prisoner, from Viren's dungeon." He gestured toward Dharti. "You released him?"

"Yes."

"How?" The question seemed equal parts fear and admiration.

Although Runaan did not know the man, he thought he recognized the voice. He had only heard it through closed doors, however, so he could not be sure. He said nothing, though, while the conversation moved rapidly above him. He studied the two humans, trying to determine the best way, in his condition, to take them down if necessary.

"Commander Gren," the dark-skinned human interjected, "this has gone on long enough. Are we just going to stand here while this...are you even really a human?--while she sets elves free around us? _Elves!_ They'll take us prisoner next!"

"No one's going to take you prisoner, Corvus," Dharti said angrily. "And anyway, I need to recover before I can free the others. They'll probably be in no shape to fight you, either." 

"Commander! She's either a spy or a traitor. Either way, you have to put a stop to this."

"He can't," Dharti snapped. "I put him under a spell, that first night. He can't interfere or tell anyone that he's under the spell, either." She crossed her arms. "Believe me, I'd have put _you_ under one, too, if I'd had any components left. But it doesn't matter now. Gren, you can tell him what you want. But before either of you do anything, let me question him." She pointed behind her at Runaan. "This elf was held prisoner by Viren. Gren, so were you. We all know Viren's the real threat here. Our best chance is to work together. Just...give me five minutes to talk to him."

"No!" the one she'd called Corvus shouted, but Gren put one hand on his arm to silence him.

"Five minutes won't harm anything," he said softly. "And if he does know anything about the princes…." He looked at Dharti. "Okay, five minutes. Just one condition. We communicate everything we learn to General Amaya."

Dharti shook her head. "I can't promise that yet. But I will promise that we'll discuss the best course together. All of us."

Gren worried his lower lip between his teeth, glance alternating between Dharti, Runaan, and his human companion. Finally, he nodded once and drew Corvus aside. The shorter man shook his head, but Gren made some kind of motion with his hands and they moved off a few paces. They stood face to face, each moving their hands in intricate signals. 

As soon as the humans moved away, Dharti knelt in front of Runaan. _"Sorry about them,"_ she said.

 _"Is that...magic?"_ Runaan asked cautiously, nodding toward their fingers dancing in the air.

 _"No, they're just talking another way."_ In business-like fashion, she asked: _"What can you tell me about the human princes? Gren said your assassin kidnapped them from someplace called the Winter Lodge, but Corvus told him that he encountered her after that, and she claimed the princes were traveling with her willingly, that they're friends. Which is it?"_

Runaan sighed behind tight lips. _"The latter, I suppose. But we have more important problems. Under no circumstances share this with the humans. The High Mage has a Portal--"_

_"--I know. That's why I've been in Katolis. I was looking for it--"_

_"--And he also had the egg of the dragon prince,"_ he finished, running over her affirmation. She gasped, and he nodded in sympathy. _"I saw it myself. He did not destroy it. Rayla planned to restore it to the Queen. I have reason to believe they went with her. It would be...advantageous should they succeed. But more importantly, their mage must not discover how to use the Portal. That's what matters."_

 _"Well, these humans are looking for the princes, and they're enemies of the mage. I'd planned to leave them at the Breach to report back myself, regarding the Portal. But then things changed. I suppose we can…."_ she trailed off, thinking without explaining her idea. Her eye fell to the constricting white band. _"Your arm. You bound yourself to take a life?"_ she asked him instead.

He nodded. _"The Crown Prince,"_ he confirmed.

 _"The child, traveling with your renegade, Rayla."_ It was not a question, but he nodded, eyes cast down. _"Is she bound, too?"_ He nodded again.

She reached out to touch the moon seal gingerly. _"You zealots and your rituals,"_ she commented, not kindly, but without rancor. She had the grace not to show any outward pity. at least. Instead, she rose and walked toward the horses. 

Meanwhile, the humans had apparently used their hand motions to carry on a private conversation of their own. Seeing Dharti dig into the saddlebags, they broke off. "There's rope in there," Corvus told her. "Tie him up."

"Yeah, that's gonna happen," she replied with disdain. From one of the saddlebags, she pulled out a short cloak, which she offered to Runaan. Much as he would have loved to refuse anything made by humans, he was in sore need. His skin already felt like it was burning. He nodded his thanks and draped the garment over his shoulders--awkward with one hand, but manageable.

"Traitor," Corvus growled.

"Wrong again," Dharti said. "Half-elf. Gren--"

"Bull," Corvus interrupted. He pointed between her and Runaan. "No horns. No pointed ears. Five fingers," he ticked off each characteristic as if it were proof. 

Had they never seen a half-breed before? Could they really not tell? Then again, Dharti had said she was of the Hupta tribe, a desert people. Runaan had heard tell that earth elves interbreeded more readily than the other tribes. And that among the desert elves, half-breeds were more likely to inherit human physical traits, and that they tended to be built smaller than other tribes, even when fully-grown. Or perhaps she was simply particularly short.

She was certainly indignant in her reply. "Yes, I have five fingers. You don't have to be so rude about it." She pulled her hair back from her ears, revealing that they were slightly pointed, just not as long as most of their kind. That left only the horns, which Runaan assumed she had shorn and filed down for her assignment.

"Gren," she repeated, dismissing the other man. "This is Runaan. Runaan, Commander Gren. Or, perhaps you've already met?"

"We--not formally," Gren said, blushing. "I did try to make conversation but--you probably couldn't hear me."

Runaan had heard his voice, of course, but had never replied. He did not reply now, either.

"Gren's really not that bad, for a human," Dharti pronounced, which caused the ginger-haired youth to blush even more intensely.

"Uh--"

"And this is Corvus, who is going to _mind his manners_ ," she continued over Gren's flustered response, "and help Runaan onto the horse."

 _"I can walk,"_ Ryunaan insisted.

 _"Really. Get up,"_ she challenged.

Grimacing, he pushed himself up using his right hand. He swayed a little, but straightened to his full height. Dhartivindrim's mouth quirked, impressed. "Still, you should ride, or we'll never get anywhere. And you need help to climb."

"I need no help from a human," Runaan sneered. He pushed himself forward.

"I don't care if I help you or not," said Corvus. "We know why you were in that dungeon. Tell me right now why I shouldn't execute one of the assassins who killed our King."

"I am already dead," Runaan said, barely suppressing morbid laughter. 

"Not helping," Dharti snapped at him. "Corvus. Listen to me. The princes are alive. All _three_ of them. You told Gren that the girl, the elf, said Prince Ezran and Prince Callum were her friends."

"Yes, but only because she's lying to them," complained the human.

"She's not lying. Runaan says they found the dragon prince's egg. They're taking it back to the Dragon Queen," Dharti explained. 

_"Why are you--"_ he began to ask, but she waved him into silence.

"We should help the princes," she continued. "It accomplishes both your missions, it protects them from Viren, and it's the only thing that's going to keep the Queen from destroying Katolis."

Runaan frowned. _"It's humans who want war;_ we _extracted justice,"_ he pointed out. She whirled around to glare at him angrily. 

_"Quiet. Let me handle this,"_ she insisted. Runaan clamped his mouth shut. Clearly, she had a plan and did not feel she needed to share it. But she was the spy; his job was much simpler. It did not involve manipulation or deceit. Leave that to the elves of the earth.

"Dharti," Gren said slowly. "We should send a message to Amaya. She needs to know all this."

"No," Dharti said, before Runaan could object as well. "That will cause difficulty. Our best course is to find the princes and help them slip over the border."

"Amaya will do the right thing," Gren argued earnestly. "She is no friend of Viren's, and she's the princes' aunt. We have to tell her where they are and where they're heading. And why. As for...Runaan, is it? Corvus has a point. He killed the king. He has to answer for that."

"I am already dead," Runaan repeated. 

"You said that to Viren, too," Gren said, and Runaan could not help showing his surprise. "The...door was open when he questioned you. I heard you. You meant it literally, didn't you?" He stepped forward. Runaan stumbled away, but the cloak fell off his shoulders. "That arm...you don't mean you're _dead_ , you mean you're already _dying_. Is that it?"

Rather than answer, Runaan looked sullenly at Dharti. _"We should kill them, take their horses, and go,"_ he told her, though he predicted she would balk.

 _"I thought your lot didn't 'take lightly?'_ she asked, with just a hint of superiority.

 _"Recent circumstances have convinced me it's no crime to take a human life,"_ he grumbled sourly. _"They'll be trouble, later if not sooner. We should do it now, while they're arguing."_ The freckled one carried no weapon except his eating knife; the dark one had the hook, but Runaan thought if they disabled him first….

Sure enough, Dharti shook her head emphatically. _"Not necessary. Human factions are hard to understand but Harrow's death has caused a rift. I think--"_

 _"You've become too accustomed to them, living among them. None of them can be trusted."_ He took one limping step toward the horse.

 _"My father was a human,"_ Dharti hissed furiously. _"There are some who can overcome--"_

Corvus's voice rose above their conversation. "--ridiculous. They are the _enemy_!"

" **ALL RIGHT!** " Dharti shouted, loud enough to cause an echo against the rock face above. "All three of you, stop squabbling. The longer you stand here arguing, the worse his arm gets, the farther away the princes get, and the closer Viren's children get to finding them. We _do not have time for this_." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gren, if you want to send a message to the Standing Battalion, we can find a bird in the village, but we stay on their trail. Corvus, nothing will bring your ruler back, but nothing will bring the king of the dragons back, either. Justice will not be denied. And Runaan, they're too useful. We're going to keep them with us, at least until we've crossed into Xadia. Can you walk through a human village? No, you can't." She caught her breath and brought her tone down to a calmer, colder sort of contempt. "By the Six, I _should_ just leave all of you here to fight about it, but that would not resolve the real problem. So. Starting right now, we all work together. Agreed?"

The two humans looked down sheepishly. They nodded. Dharti fixed Runaan with a glare so fierce, he wondered if her eyes would sprout bolts of fire. Fighting a grimace of distaste, he nodded as well.

"Good. Now. Help him onto the horse, and let's get a move on. If we're lucky, we'll make it around the mountain before nightfall."

  


* * *

  


The boat could have taken them all the way to Long Neck Bay, but Claudia had them disembark well before they turned that far south. They took the old Eastern Battle Road toward the mountain her spell had revealed. Between the boat (one of her better ideas, really) and the pace Soren set on the road, they covered a great deal of territory in a short time. Claudia felt confident they were catching up to their quarry.

By the following morning, they had reached the village at the foot of the Cursed Caldera. "Are you sure about this?" Soren had asked her.

"Of course," Claudia said. For all that Soren was burly and strong, her brother was sure squeamish. "It's broad daylight. C'mon, we're making really good time."

"Yeah, but...no one ever comes back from up there," Soren pointed out, gulping uncomfortably.

"We'll be the first, then," she assured him. "Come on. The trail's getting cold. I want to get up there and see what all the fuss is about."

Soren blanched, but he pushed forward, to his credit. 

"Seriously?" Claudia teased. "Are you telling me you're going to let a little cursed road stand in the way of our mission? You're not _scared_ , are you?"

"No...No! What? No," he laughed, but it was his "nervous" laugh. "I...uh, I was just thinking, maybe we should...uh, eat first."

Claudia looked sideways at her brother. They'd just eaten before breaking camp, and the only reason Soren would suggest eating again so soon was anxiety. An idea formed. "Well, if you want a snack, I think there are still some apples you haven't eaten," she suggested to test her theory.

"Apples? Not...what I had in mind. I meant...uh, something hot, maybe."

Sensing confirmation, she laid her trap with enthusiasm. "Ooh, maybe brunch?"

"Uh...yeah," Soren agreed. "Brunch would be...would be great."

"Like, a big stack of fluffy pancakes?" she prompted.

"Mm, yeah," he said.

"With lots of syrup?"

"You bet." He smacked his lips.

"And...a nice, thick smear of jam?" 

"Oh, yeah, that'd be perfect, sis." Soren beamed at her. "Thanks, Claudia, you always know--"

"A-ha!" Claudia pounced, pointing into his face. "You're craving sweets. You're stressed out. Admit it."

"What? Yeah," Soren said with a defensive shrug. "Yeah, I'm stressed out. We're under a bit of pressure, Clauds. If you haven't noticed."

"Relax, will you?" She wagged her hand from the wrist. "It's just a simple retrieval. Find Callum and Ez, rescue them from the mean elf (no problem for you, right?) and then go home. No worries." And no death, she told herself. Definitely, no death.

Soren's eyes slid off her to find the horizon. "Yeah. Yeah, it's gonna be a piece of cake. Aw, man, now I want cake." 

"Sor?" Claudia asked, growing serious. "For real, though...are you okay?" She recalled seeing him in the courtyard, before they set out from the castle. Out of the blue, he had asked her if Dad had said anything weird. It wasn't like Soren to speculate or guess. It certainly wasn't like him to notice her moods. It was more like he'd had a strange interaction with their father, too, but then got nervous about telling her. On an impulse, she pressed the point. "Hey, Sor-Bear…. Is this really just about going up on that caldera? Did...did Dad say something that has you spooked?"

"Dad?" Soren said, and his voice actually cracked. "Uh, no, no, no, nope. Nooo. I haven't even talked to Dad. Since we left, of course. Ha-ha. And neither have you. Right? Right." He cleared his throat. "So. Cursed Caldera. You ready? Who's hungry? Not me. I'm so ready for this. Can't wait." He kicked his horse's flank, trotting ahead of her to cut off further conversation.

Yup, something was definitely bugging him. She'd figure out what, eventually. One way or another, he'd tell her. He never could keep a secret for long.


	6. An Indirect Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a cabbage patch is trampled; a glowtoad is spotted; and an elf is a drag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"This one's _not_ so good at hiding."** \- Rayla
> 
>  **"We don't need to talk."** \- Katolian sentry guard
> 
> **"Snow-elf."** \- Rayla

"Well, that's the end of the forest," Callum observed, about an hour after they'd started out that morning. A vast plain lay before them, dotted with a patchwork quilt of farmland sporting every imaginable crop. Aside from a lone tree here and there, there was really no cover. 

"We should have timed this better," Rayla commented, looking out toward the horizon. "We should have come through here at night."

"It wouldn't matter," Callum told her. "The Kudila Plains go for miles and miles. If you want to go around Long Neck Bay--"

"Invern Bay," she corrected.

"Uh, the large body of water, which you hate? It's Long Neck Bay." Callum pointed to his right, even though they were miles from the shoreline.

"It's called Invern Bay." Rayla insisted.

"Well…here in Katolis, _we_ call it Long Neck Bay. Anyway, to go around it, we'll have to go north and stop at least one night in the country before we can turn east for the hills. Then it's back into the mountains before we make it to the Breach."

"It's gonna be hard to keep Zym hidden," Ezran said. 

"Not to mention it's getting warmer every day," Callum added. Already, he wanted to remove his hood, but he knew it would keep the sun off better than nothing. "Rayla, your cloak is gonna look suspicious in all that sunshine."

"It can't be helped," she agreed. "We'll just have to go quickly and hope we don't meet anyone."

"We'll need food, though," Ezran pointed out. "Maybe we can find a good place for you and Zym to hide and Callum and I can get some."

"All right," Rayla agreed. Callum found that a little surprising, but perhaps she wasn't too keen to practice her human impersonation after what happened in the other village.

They struck out for the nearest field. It would be wheat, eventually, but now it was still stunted, green and scrub-like from the spring rains. They walked between the rows as best they could, keeping on the lookout for farmhands who might come along to tend the crop. They saw no one. Zym kept helping himself to the tops of the stalks.

"Zym!" Ezran cried when he caught the dragon at it. "Stop it. These aren't for eating yet. You'll get sick."

Zym cocked his head and lolled his tongue, as if to deny wrongdoing, but then he shook himself tip to tail, turned in a circle quickly, and yipped like he was proud of his accomplishment.

"No, you can't nap now, either," Ezran said. "Callum, can you carry him for a while? He's tired."

"Uh…." Callum suppressed an inexplicable feeling of nerves. It wasn't that Zym wasn't a cute little guy, or even that Callum really thought he could hurt them, much less would. But he'd seen Zym's teeth rip through Rayla's binding ribbon when nothing else had done it. And baby animals rarely had a good sense of their own strength. Still...if Zym went to sleep, it should be okay. Right? "Sure," he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

He dropped down to one knee so that Zym could scramble up into his arms. But to his surprise, Zym didn't stop there. He pulled himself up onto Callum's shoulder and balanced between it and the top of his backpack. 

"Cool," Ezran pronounced. "Hang on, Zym. Don't fall off!"

They made it through the wheat field and darted across to the next. About halfway across, Rayla threw out an arm and froze. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

"I don't hear any--" Callum started to say, but then he heard the sound of singing, and underneath, the squeak of a wagon wheel. To their left, they could see a party of farmers come over a gentle roll, all in a haywain. They were singing a pleasant chorus whose words were barely distinct, but they were heading directly for the field where Rayla, Callum, and Ezran were walking. The three of them were entirely exposed.

"Quick, this way!" Rayla said, darting forward and to her right to take them in a path away from the approaching wagon.

"Oh, no," Callum said. He grabbed Zym off his shoulder so that he wouldn't be visible from behind. They all trotted as fast as they could without trampling the rows of vegetation. But there was no way not to be spotted by the others. Callum could hear when the song faltered and the farmers began to shout about their fields being traversed. A few workers jumped from the wagon to pursue them faster.

"Should we run? Okay, we're running!" Callum said, seeing Rayla pick up the pace. He and Ezran did their best to keep up. Callum wasn't sure if he or Ez was the first to trip, but they both went down. Bait and Zym tumbled into the leafy heads of the growing crop. Callum fought back to his feet, then bent over to help Ezran up as well. Rayla had distanced herself in the interim, but sensing that they were not on her heels, she turned back.

"Go!" Callum yelled, pushing away with his hands. With luck, she could make it to safety, or at least get out of sight, before the farmhands reached them. As for Bait and Zym, they had crawled away into a row of the crop--inconsequentially, Callum thought perhaps they were cabbages--so perhaps they could hide for now, and Rayla could double back later.

But the farmhands were almost upon them, so Callum put his hands on Ezran's shoulders, ready to push him aside if there was any trouble. He looked around; Rayla had disappeared.

"Holla, younguns," said one of the workers, a man with a leathery face. He drawled so broadly that Callum almost could not understand him. "Whar be'ye gowan?"

"Uh…" Callum groped for a credible story. "We're just...we're heading north to the Standing Battalion, to uh...enlist," he said, a little too nervously. 

"Trompin th'cabbage, an all," the man said. 

"YES! It was cabbage, I was right!" Callum exulted. "Uh...Sorry. About that. About tromping them, I mean. We just...wanted to get there as quickly as possible."

Another farmer, a woman with dark brown skin and a wide smile said, "You tae're mite young for t'army, ey?"

"Well, I'm not too young, and Ez… Ezgar here can be a page, first."

"Ezgar?" repeated the woman. "Warn't there three o'yar?"

"Uh, no...no just the two of us. Just us. No one else," Callum raised his voice meaningfully, hoping Rayla, wherever she'd gotten to, stayed hidden.

The two of them exchanged a glance, and then the woman continued. "Wynee tack terroad?" Callum might not have had a clue what she meant, except that she pointed up the tiny set of wheel ruts that cut between the field where they stood and the one they'd just come through. 

"We're just taking a more direct route," he answered, suppressing a jittery laugh. "We're sorry about your, uh, cabbages. We'll be really careful. Come on, Ez."

Before he could turn with Ezran and begin walking again, the man grabbed him. "Miran," he said, and Callum had no idea what that meant, "think'ee they be spies?"

"No, no, no, we're not spies," Callum said, voice almost cracking. "Just...orphans," he swallowed uncomfortably. Ezran would play along, of course, but he didn't know just how true Callum's story was. "Ez is my brother, you see, and we--"

"Don't look like brothers," said the man.

"Well, we are," Ezran said, and he did not have to feign offense.

"Allrigh, allrigh, no need ter get in a flap. Gotter be careful, s'all. Miran, thinkee 'Erexcellence ought'ave a lookee thes'uns?"

"Good idee, Burk," said the woman. "Ey, Juni, Zelno, tack th'chills t'Erexcellence."

Callum had no idea what they were saying or what was happening until she gestured to the two others who had run up to catch them. "Juni" and "Zelno" were a good deal younger than the other two. The smaller of them stepped forward to scoop Ezran back toward them; while the larger approached Callum with the same intent.

"No, no, really, we just want to--"

"Comin' w'us, young'un," the farmhand insisted, and before Callum could resist, he found himself being frogmarched toward the wagon, Ezran in a similar position.

"I really don't think this is necessary--" Callum tried to protest. 

"Affamo!" shouted the one called Burk. Callum looked back over his shoulder and his stomach did a somersault. The leaves were glowing.

"Oh, no...Bait…." Ezran moaned, slapping his forehead in dismay. 

The two older farmers bent into the rows and pulled out not only Bait, but--

"BeKatol!" Burk gasped. "That be a dragon! A real dragon! Miran, lookee. A dragon. In oor field."

All four of the farmhands circled around to regard Zym, who preened proudly at the attention. "That settles," said the woman, whom Callum now understood was named Miran. "All go t'Erexcellence. She'll knowat ter do."

Still holding Bait, she gestured to the others, who grabbed Callum and Ezran again. Along with Burk and Zym, they returned to the wagon, which had been emptied in the meantime. They were compelled to climb aboard, and Burk turned the horses back in the direction they'd come.

  


* * *

  


After barely one-quarter of a mile, Gren came to the realization that Runaan was a terrible rider. Even with Dharti controlling the horse, they had to keep a dismal pace. On top of that, Corvus continued to shoot surly looks up at the elf every few steps. Gren decided to change strategy.

"Corvus," he said, glancing down to the man walking alongside him. "You go on ahead. See if you can find any sign of the princes in the village--or better still, any information about Soren and Claudia coming through there. Find a good place for us to spend the night, where our companion won't be so noticeable."

Corvus looked for a moment as if he might argue, but either he thought better of it or he was simply too pleased by the prospect of moving more quickly, and being on his own for a bit. He saluted and took off. It only took a few minutes for him to outdistance them and disappear around the rising curve of the road.

It was excruciating to walk the horses slowly enough that Runaan could hang on. Absently, Gren whistled a line or two of "The Meddlesome Fishmonger." A minstrel had come through the battalion recently and it had been stuck in his head since.

"What is that noise?" came Runaan's laconic, low voice behind him.

"It's just whistling," Dharti said quietly. Gren didn't think they knew he could hear, or perhaps it was a trick of the way the rocks carried sound.

Runaan grunted as if a question had been answered.

"What?" she asked.

The answer came out in a murmur. "I've heard that sound before. In the mage's prison. I thought it was intended as torture. But it was just this friend of yours?"

"He's not a friend, more a...an ally. Anyway, it's a sound humans make."

"It's a sound like a dying bird."

"I can hear you, you know," Gren finally said, twisting round in his saddle. "Amaya never complained," he commented.

"Isn't she deaf? I mean, that's the reason you wave your hands around, to translate for her?" Dharti countered. 

"Ah, well...not the reason, but yes, she's--yes, I'm her translator." Gren nodded, dismayed. He'd thought his joke was amusing, but it was lost on the elves. "All right, then...tell me more about the elf who's accompanying the princes. Why wasn't she with the rest of you in the attack at the castle?"

There was a long pause. Then, "Because she disobeyed orders," Runaan said, sounding tired.

"What orders?"

After a moment, Gren looked behind him again. Runaan looked directly into his eyes, then slid his gaze to the side. He was holding on to Dharti with his good arm, and appeared to need a great deal of concentration to stay upright, despite his feet in the stirrups. Still, the dismissal of the question couldn't have been clearer. Nonetheless, Gren pressed his line of inquiry. He reined in so that they could ride side by side and he could watch for the other's reactions.

"Well, for example, was she supposed to go elsewhere? Cover your escape? Stay behind?"

Runaan's lip twitched at the last, but he said only, "Irrelevant. She's...young. Impressionable."

"Was she supposed to kill the princes?" Gren asked suddenly.

Again, Runaan's eyes flickered quickly, as if Gren was close to the truth. So Gren was surprised when he said, "No," after a moment. "She was not sent to kill the princes."

"So, why was she with them?"

"I don't know."

"How did they find the egg?"

"I don't know," Runaan admitted. 

"How did they know what it was?"

Runaan said nothing. His piercing blue eyes appeared to be lit by fire, so intense was the look of scorn in them. Gren's throat went dry and he reached for his water-skin. 

When he'd had a drink, he continued, "You said you saw it. It's...distinctive, then."

"It's magnificent," Runaan said quietly.

"Did you tell them to run?"

"No."

"Do you know why they headed this way, by such an indirect route?" Gren wondered, more out of curiosity than necessity.

Runaan thought about that before answering, "No."

Gren tried to think of what Amaya would ask. "If this elf is so young, can she protect the princes until we reach them?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Well, that was not encouraging. A thought occurred to him that he decided to indulge. "So, that arm, the one that's slowly killing you. It's because of that band, I assume. You can't take it off?"

There was another uncomfortably long pause. The road curved and climbed. Finally, Runaan sighed. "No."

Gren nodded. "Does your friend Rayla have a similar ribbon?"

Runaan looked away again. "Yes."

"So...she's also dying." That argued for even more speed. The princes would be defenseless if she died before they reached safety.

Runaan did not answer; he lurched on the horse. Dharti had to pull hard on the reins to stop the animal from rearing and throwing them both. Gren, too, had to gentle his horse in reaction; he pulled back and let them have the full width of the shelf. "Don't shift your weight without telling me," Dharti instructed.

He said something angrily in their own language. Dharti nodded and replied, "Still, try to give me a warning." Gren waited, then nudged his horse even with theirs to resume their walk.

"Is Rayla also dying?" he asked again, when the other two ceased their conversation.

Runaan sighed. "Her binding is around her wrist. It should be...not quite as life-threatening." 

"But...it's getting tighter every day, isn't it," Gren concluded.

"Yes," Runaan confirmed. It wasn't exhaustion, Gren realized. It was regret.

"She's significant, to you?"

Again, Runaan's eyes flashed, enough for Gren to read that he'd scored another hit. But the elf covered his reaction, and shook his head slowly. "She is...my responsibility."

"You were the leader?"

"Yes."

"So...it was your decision to bring her along?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but...if she wasn't supposed to kill the princes, why include her in that binding spell?" Gren wondered aloud.

"Again. Irrelevant."

"Er, okay…." Gren backed off. Clearly this was a sore point with Runaan. He didn't want to lose any rapport he might have managed to build. "Well, then...what do you think her plan will be?"

"To go home."

Gren suppressed a sigh of his own. He would much rather have a conversation, than have to interrogate, but it seemed Runaan was not in a mood to be forthcoming. And after all, why should he be? His experience of humans was less than kind. Gren chided himself and made a better attempt to find common ground.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust humans. But…no one wants war. No one I serve, anyway. My goal is to see the princes safe with...with people who will take care of them. Yours is to get the egg back to the Dragon Queen, I imagine. It'll be easier if we share what we know."

"I have nothing to tell you," Runaan said. "Rayla defied me, somehow she found Prince Ezran on her own, but also discovered the egg. While the rest of us carried out our mission, she and the two humans seem to have run away. I was imprisoned that night; your mage ensorceled me some time after that; then I was on top of that ridge with you. That's all."

Gren felt certain there was more Runaan _could_ tell, if he were so inclined, but he was tired of trying to force the issue. They had other problems to face, as well. By now, he was sure, Viren had discovered he'd escaped. He wondered what Viren would do about it, and how long it would take to find out what form Viren's move would take. 

He also wondered why, if the princes were already working with the elf, they didn't tell Amaya back at the Lodge. What would she have done? He couldn't say for sure, but they would certainly have approached Viren differently. Now, the best course was to get the boys to the Standing Battalion so that they could arrange a parlay to return the egg properly. Still, he longed for better instruction from Amaya. He hoped the village had reliable messenger birds, at least.

They rode in silence, while Gren's thoughts circled like the road itself, winding and spiraling around to the far side of the mountain. They gained altitude steadily, as well, so that by the time they could see the village, the horses were picking their way through drifts of snow. The tips of Gren's ears grew cold; he pondered whether Runaan's more pronounced ears felt cold at all. The elf showed no sign of that kind of discomfort, but then, Gren thought, Runaan seemed committed to a stoic sort of implacability.

The sun glowed a deep pink and orange against the horizon, which gave the snow a pink tinge as well. Corvus's footprints were clearly visible, so at least the wind was not blowing too hard. With the high terrain, the only trees around were scrubby pyramids of firs, some thin and juvenile, others taller or with wider bases. Smoke curled into the sky from the chimneys in the village below. They could just make out some paved stone streets, but only a few people darting home before it got fully dark.

Gren swung down from the saddle. Dharti locked her hand with Runaan's good one so that he could slide off; he immediately overbalanced and fell. She moved the horse forward to avoid kicking him as she dismounted. Runaan growled something to her in his own tongue that made her snort and shake her head. She helped him up and brushed the snow from both their knees.

"I hope Corvus found us shelter," Gren said optimistically. "It'll get a good deal colder soon."

"Rayla's been here," Runaan said suddenly.

"Really?" Gren brightened. "How can you tell?"

Runaan pointed over Gren's shoulder. Outside one of the nearby houses, someone had broken a carrot in two to form horns on a snowman, leaving it nose-less. "Snow elf," Runaan pronounced, deadpan.

"Wow. So, when you said she's young she's--young," Gren observed.

"Very. But...capable."

"When she's not injured?"

Runaan shrugged. Focused on the snowman, he said, "You two can go into the village and find your man. I shall wait."

"No need," Gren observed, for he saw three figures leave the edge of the town and head up the hill toward them. One was unmistakably Corvus. The other two made him rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly, but no, there it was: a girl riding an enormous, three-legged wolf. "I think Corvus has found us a place to spend the night."


	7. A Big Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mission is a failure; a soldier has doubts; and a benefactor has uncertain motives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"It's a primal stone. It uses magical energy from one of the six primal sources."** \- Claudia
> 
>  **"I mean, I _have_ heard stories, but I'm sure they're just stories. Horrible, awful stories."** \- Callum
> 
>  **"Don't play dumb! You know it's a powerful weapon."** \- Claudia

Everything Soren had ever heard about the Cursed Caldera suggested that it was the most haunted, creepiest place in Katolis. There were supposed to be monsters of all sorts. Yet they were more than halfway to the top and had seen nary a creature worth beheading. He was relieved, because honestly, he'd rather kill enemies with two legs than anywhere from four to a million. But he'd also keyed himself up for some good, old-fashioned monster-slaying, and now he felt cheated. In fact, he was almost offended at how the reality compared to the rumor.

"Where's all the horrifying terrors?" he asked, holding his arms wide.

"Never thought you would be upset that there aren't scary monsters," said Claudia. 

"I'm not upset that it's not scary," Soren replied. "I'm just...confused? I guess?"

"But doesn't that always describe you?" Claudia teased. "Confused and a little bit behind?"

"Ha, ha," Soren said, rolling his eyes. "No, I just--if this is the most haunted road in Katolis, what's the second-most? A children's pantomime?"

"Ooh, puppets are almost certainly possessed," Claudia offered with excitement. "I've never seen a puppet that didn't look like it would kill you in your sleep."

Soren threw his hands up. "Great. Now I'm gonna have nightmares about possessed puppets. Thanks, Claudia."

"My pleasure," she said happily. "Anyway, it's midday. The terrors supposedly only come out at night." 

It was true: the sun was nearly directly over their heads, bright and hot despite the cold wind blowing on the bluff. Belatedy, Soren realized his sister had timed their arrival deliberately. He frowned proudly, but said nothing to acknowledge her careful planning. She was already proud enough.

They reached a switchback on the rim. It had a wide shelf ending in an overhang. A massive white tree grew against the side of the very top of the bluff. Its trunk was split in two. "Wait here a second," Claudia told him, and ducked inside the trunk. The dark opening glowed a few seconds later; Claudia must have been using the cantrip in her ring. 

"It's just a cave," she called, emerging right after. "Weird, though. This place is still practically alive with magi--" she broke off as her foot kicked something on the ground. "Oh, no…."

"What?" Soren leaned over his horse's neck. Claudia bent over, looking this way and that and repeating herself, increasingly panicked. "What's wrong?"

"They were definitely here," she said, "but we might have a big problem."

"Well, what's the problem?" Soren asked. "Other than that they're obviously not here anymore and we're back to square one?"

"There's broken glass here," she explained, pointing to one area of the plateau, "and I'm pretty sure it used to be my sky primal stone."

"How do you--"

"--And this here," she continued, rolling over his question, "these are fragments of," she swallowed, "of dragon egg shell."

Soren's eyes bugged out and his head rocked from side to side. "Dragon...egg? As in...as in _the_ dragon egg? The one all the fuss has been about?"

"As in, the egg of the dragon prince," Claudia said, growing even more ashen than usual. "This is...this is bad."

"Uh, yeah?" Soren scoffed. "We've lost the little brats _again_."

"No, I mean--" she sighed, cradling a little piece of the shell. "Okay. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but…. Dad sort of...gave me another objective. One I didn't tell you about."

"Wait, what?" Soren asked. "Unbelievable," he declared angrily. "Does he really think I can't do it? I have to have my _sister_ do things for me?" He let out an exasperated, and unfortunately petulant, grunt. "Seriously, sometimes I think he has no confidence in me."

"Dad gave you a secret mission, too?" Claudia asked. "Oh, katz--is _that_ what you've been worried about?"

Soren reddened. "Well, yeah. I mean--it's...a big deal, isn't it. And it's not--not exactly _above board_."

Claudia shrugged. Her face twitched in a confusion that she reserved for things like discovering a 300-year-old tree. "Well, it's not… _that_ big a deal. Or it wasn't. But now--"

"Not a big deal?" Soren repeated. "How can you say that? Especially given how you feel about him."

"Who?" Claudia asked, definitely perplexed now.

"Wait…" Soren leaned back in his saddle. "What was your mission?"

Claudia crossed her arms. "What was yours?" she asked suspiciously.

"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, either."

"Sor-bear…." Claudia wheedled. "You'll feel better if you do."

There was truth in that, he supposed. He dismounted, using the time to think about whether he should tell her or not. Back on the ground, he faced her and steepled his hands. "Tell you what. Why don't we both say what Dad told us on the count of three?"

Claudia nodded with a shrug. "Okay. One."

"Two."

"Three. To--"

"To kill the princes," Soren said, and only then realized that Claudia had stopped, while he had continued. "Wait. What? You didn't say anything!"

"KILL THE PRINCES?!" Claudia shrieked. It sent some birds screaming out of the branches of the trees down the trail. "Are you crazy? Don't joke about that kind of stuff, Soren!"

"No, I was just…." he blushed furiously. "You tricked me! You were supposed to say your thing."

"Who cares, you said you're supposed to kill them. _Kill_. Callum. And Ezran. Are you absolutely certain that's what Dad told you?"

"Well...he said that accidents happen. In the wilderness. And that…." he trailed off. Saying it aloud made it real in a way that even talking to Dad had not. He hung his head. "He said I'd know the right thing to do."

"Yeah, which is _not_ killing Callum and Ez," Claudia pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He found it really hard to meet her eyes. "He said...he said one day the throne would be mine. Claudia. I don't...think I can do that."

Claudia bit her lip. Then, to Soren's surprise, she put her arms around his shoulders. "I don't think you _should_ do that. Dad's...wrong on this one."

Soren felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, like he could suddenly breathe again. "Whoa," he groaned. "Disagreeing with Dad? Let me mark my calendar."

"Shut up," Claudia replied, in the "annoyed but not" sort of way she had. She gave him a squeeze, which was mostly useless in the armor, but he appreciated it anyway. Then she stepped back, clearing her throat. "There's got to be another way to help Dad without...those kinds of extremes."

"So, if Dad didn't ask you to kill them, or let's say, arrange for them to die, then...what was your secret mission?"

"Hm? Oh, to bring back the dragon egg."

"Which is shattered."

"Yup." She nodded, gesturing to the littered ground.

"So we both fail."

"Yup," she sighed, crossing her arms dejectedly.

They stood there for a moment. "So, what are we going to do?" Soren asked.

  


* * *

  


"Someone lit a fire here, sir," Marcos reported. 

Lieutenant Pan stepped off the trail to come over where Marcos crouched. The small pile of coal and ash was cold, but the footprints in the sand and soil around it were fresh. "Well spotted, lad," he said. He glanced around the earth. "And there was some kind of scuffle, I'd say." He pointed to where the trail bent below a much higher, snowier pass. "Two sets of hoof prints approach here. Then, going up that way, there is an additional set of footprints… and this here--" he pointed to a distinct boot mark in the grit. "This is an Elf boot."

"So, it's true," Marcos said. "Commander Gren is in league with the Elves, just as Lord Viren said."

"Yes. It seems he is." He swung back into his saddle. "There's a village on the other side of this pass. When we get there, we should send a bird to General Amaya. She ought to know that her trusted man is not to be trusted after all."

"Do you know the Commander well, sir?" Marcos asked, as he mounted his horse and followed along the trail.

"Can't say I do," Lieutenant Pan said, smoothing his moustache. "We've only met a handful of times and he was always busy attending General Amaya."

Marcos nodded. "It's a shame, really. He seemed like a nice guy. You know?"

Pan grimaced. "That's the way it always is, soldier. It's never the ones you suspect."

"Yes, sir," Marcos said crisply. "It's just strange General Amaya herself never--"

"The General is busy, and her job is crucial to the defense of the realm," Pan lectured. "But even a hero can miss what's under her nose, sometimes."

"Yes, sir," Marcos agreed, more sadly. He remembered Gren from the last time General Amaya had visited the castle, for Queen Sarai's mourning week. He had been only 14 himself, about Prince Callum's age now, and he'd been assigned as page to the General while they were there. For all that Gren had seemed very much older and more mature, he had still been kind and approachable. It seemed inconceivable that the freckled, clean-cut aide had been corrupted by elven influences. He felt certain there had to be another explanation. But there was no convincing Lieutenant Pan of that. 

"Sir…" he said tentatively, "It does seem odd that Lord Viren thought Soren would need our help. And that boot print. It comes out of nowhere. Do you think Commander Gren--met the elves here? And if that's so, could there be...more than one?"

Pan stroked his moustache. "Hm, yes, it's possible," he allowed. "In any event, our goal is to catch Gren _before_ he is able to overtake Soren and Claudia, so as not to interfere with their mission to return the princes."

"Right," Marcos said, slowly. 

"Problem, soldier?" Pan asked, still smoothing his moustache, but with slightly more haughtiness.

"No, no sir. No problem." But it was...a little weird. Marcos wasn't one for a lot of thinking, but he felt like he needed more time to think about all this. Viren claimed that Gren was in league with elves...which is why he had sent Soren and Claudia, and taken Gren into custody. But then how had he escaped? Why had a page gone with him? How was it that there was no sign of any elven assistance until just now, more than a day's ride away? And..if he was traveling with elves, why hadn't Viren given Pan a method for tracking them, like he had given Soren on the day after Marcos had stumbled upon the Moonshadow assassin party? For that matter...the elf he'd encountered that night had seemed...as scared as he was. He had lied to Viren about that, covered up his own failure, but he still saw her eyes sometimes when he closed his own. She'd been reluctant to kill him. She was hardly the kind of bloodthirsty monster he'd always heard about. Something wasn't adding up, but Marcos could not tell just what that was. He hoped that before they found Gren, it would make more sense. Or maybe it would make sense when they found him. Until then, Marcos told himself what his mother always told him: to keep his mouth shut, and his ears open, and he might just learn something.

  


* * *

  


"Uh, excuse me, but...where are you taking us, exactly?" Callum asked once they were underway.

"T'Erexcellence," one of the younger ones said. "Countess Lucilla."

"Oh!" Ezran exclaimed, recognizing the name as Callum did, as well. Callum found the news hardly welcoming, though, and it seemed Ezran agreed, because a second later he repeated, "Oh," with much greater dismay. They nodded knowingly to one another. 

A year ago, Countess Lucilla had come to court. She had attempted to convince the Council that her County, which provided half the grain and produce for the kingdom, needed additional troops and protection from raiding parties from Xadia. She claimed that the people of her region spent too much time protecting the land, and not enough time farming it. She'd wanted a garrison of her own, separate from the battalions at the Breach. Most of the Council, including Lord Viren and King Harrow, had believed her request a veiled attempt to amass her own army. Callum had heard a rumor afterward that Lucilla had told Harrow she would abandon her request for a garrison and soldiers to protect her fields…if he would consider remarrying. Some of the servants even gossiped that it had been her plan all along to ask for something Harrow would not grant, in order to make a play for marriage and the throne. He didn't know whether Ezran had heard the same whispers--certainly, he had never told his brother about it--but Ez knew as well as anyone that she'd been sent from court lucky she still had her land and titles.

Callum didn't think there was a chance she would not recognize them. The big question was whether she still held a grudge against Harrow. Would she help them, or hurt them?

They would have the answer very soon. The cart bumped along the road, deep in ruts worn from decades of use, and Callum could see a small keep grow larger and larger. Soon it dominated the landscape. It was nowhere near as impressive as Katolis Castle, being situated on a small hill, with some walls that were still wood, instead of stone. The two towers weren't as tall as Katolis, either, by a long shot. But the gates were an impressive lattice of metal, ending in spikes as thick as Bait's head. It would do.

Throughout their ride, Zym had busied himself making friends. Juni, who had yellowish hair and very uneven teeth, had him in her lap right now, where he had crawled after getting tons of head-scratches from the older, larger Zelno. "Minds me o'old Dekkon, donnee?" Zelno said to her. Then, affably, he'd said to Ezran, "Dekkon wuz m'dog, back when I's your age. 'E's a scampy pup, like this'un. Died two seasons ago, did Dekkon, but this l'il fellar jus' like Dek wuz."

"He pretty much likes everyone," Ezran said. To prove it, Zym reared up on his hind legs to lick Juni's face. 

"Not gon' breathe fire at me, are yiz?" Juni asked him, laughing. 

"I don't think he can do that, yet," Ezran commented. 

As they approached the town that lay before the keep, Callum opened his rucksack. "Maybe Zym should ride in here for a bit, while there are loads of people around," he said to Ezran.

"Good idea. Zym, c'mon, climb in there where it's dark," he cajoled, pointing inside the pack.

Zym stretched his neck to sniff at the top of Callum's backpack, but then shook his head and backed away.

"C'mon, it'll be okay," Ezran promised. He leaned down. "We don't want too many people to see you. They might want to take you away," he whispered. Zym cocked his head, but after a moment, he climbed inside, turned in a circle, and curled up to nap. He had effectively pinned the pack to the floor, but at least he was out of sight.

They rode through the small market square. Callum's stomach rumbled from the smell of hot buns and other treats, but they did not stop until they reached the top of the hill and the castle wall.

"Here we go," Juni warned, nodding toward the pallisade gate. One of the two guards stepped into the path, and signaled Burk to stop the wagon.

"State yer business," he said, leaning on his pike. Whatever else Lucilla had told Harrow, she was right that her soldiers were far from elite. The man's uniform was disheveled, his armor little more than boiled leather and a kettle-top helmet. His counterpart wore maile under a surcoat that had seen better days, too.

"Caught two trespassers," said Burk carefully, "with an unusual pet. Thought 'Er'Excellency'd want ter find out more."

The guard barked in a gruff, dismissive way. "Countess Lucilla can hardly be bothered with--Oh, Great Katol," he corrected himself, eyes going wide, "that's a _dragon!_ " Sure enough, Zym had popped his head out of the backpack. Probably curious because they'd stopped. He scrambled up Callum's tunic and posed, three legs on his shoulders; one, to Callum's dismay, on his head. The guard waved his arm wildly at his companion. "Hingam, Hingam, quick--look--a dragon!"

The other guard moved close to the wagon to stare at Zym. "Better go through," he said, awestruck. "Mazz, let them by," he told the other, who was still frozen in awe at the sight of Zym. He remembered himself and stepped to the side so that Burk could move the wagon forward. 

"Zym, get down!" Callum complained, lifting the creature off his shoulder over Zym's protesting squawk. "I'm not sure it's a great idea to show you off to everyone," Callum said by way of apology. "Now, back in the--" 

"Leave'm be," Marin interjected. "It's a marvel, 'tis. Why wouldnee want people ter see it?"

"Because he's--" Callum faltered. "He's unique. Other people might want to hurt him. Not you, of course. Not your people. But...people. If the word got out."

"Oh, they'n't tell, ceptin their grandchillun, someday, mebbe," Marin declared, waving off his concern. "Sides, they's got a point. 'Er'Excellency's busy woman. Don'ave time for matters don't need no nevermind. We might'a been an hour tryna get through there. Now, 'ere we're about ter walk into 'er court, an'all."

"Lemme hol'em again," Juni pleaded. Zym smiled, or what looked like a smile, lolling his tongue out and jumping up into Juni's arms.

Burk pulled the reins as the wagon arrived at a short, flat set of stone steps that led to the main doors of the castle, which were open for the business of the day. He passed off the reins to a young groom and stood a moment giving the girl instruction. Meanwhile, Marin chivvied them all down from the back of the cart, a formidable hen in charge of her chicks. Zym glanced side to side as they climbed the steps, craning around Juni as if looking for someone else to impress.

The guards inside the doors had much the same reaction as the ones at the gate. Once again, Zym helpfully hopped from Juni's arms onto Ezran's shoulder, then stood on his hind legs to greet the soldiers. After expressing similar disbelief, they told Burk and Miran to take their place in the rear of Court.

"When'ee get in, lookat fer Rikvan. 'E'll put you on docket," the interior guard had told them.

"What's docket?" Burk muttered as they entered.

"It's the list of people with business for the court," Ezran said, too confidently. The others all regarded him suspiciously. "Uh...that's what I've heard, anyway," he added with an exaggerated shrug. But Zym chose that moment to jump off his shoulder and weave his way through the legs of the courtiers and petitioners inside.

"Zym!" he hissed after the dragon, but it was too late. None of them could catch him. Unperturbed, Ezran dove into the aisle in pursuit of the dragonet. Callum watched the ripple effect of both baby dragon and ten-year-old boy for a moment, then decided he had best have his brother's back. He also pushed his way forward, ignoring the sputterings of the three dozen or so assembled people. 

"Excuse us, sorry! Sorry, pardon me, my brother--so sorry," he said over and over as he parted the crowd, until he stumbled past the front row and found himself, Ezran, and Zym, at the foot of Lucilla's chair of state.

"What is the meaning of this?" a voice next to her chair intoned. "Rikvan--who are these children and why do they disrupt Her Excellency's business?" The speaker had none of the local accent. He was well-groomed and smooth-faced, with somber robes inscribed in all-too familiar runes. He was a mage--younger than Viren, but no less imposing--skin only a few shades lighter than his black robes, and hair in tight curls cut very close to his scalp.

"My goodness," the Countess herself cried, looking down at the three of them. "Why, Neglin, it appears we have guests."

"Guests? Your Excellency, these...ruffians have burst upon your court."

If her mage was young and handsome, the Countess appeared older: fine wrinkles formed around her eyes and mouth. She wore a lot of makeup, which made her face look unhealthily white and her mouth far too red. "These delightful ruffians, as you call them, are our Crown Prince and his brother. Unless I am mistaken? It's Ezran, right?" she smiled benevolently. "And...Callum?"

Callum swallowed. "Yes, Countess. We can explain--"

"Why, my dears, everyone in the kingdom has been looking for you. You can imagine it's been a most distressful week for all your subjects. Your father's untimely demise, then rumors of _your_ deaths, then reports that you were indeed alive, but kidnapped--however did you escape the clutches of the elves, by the way?"

"Uh…"

"And who's this enchanting little creature?" she continued, not waiting for an explanation Callum had not even begun to form. Her smile went from sweet to predatory as she registered the sight of Zym. "Neglin." Her tone shifted as well, to a clear order, like she had just seen a prized jewel hidden among glass beads.

The mage focused for the first time on the dragon, who was evading Ezran's attempts to catch him as if it were a silly game. He weaved in and out of Ez's feet, hopped away, and repeated. "Zym!" Callum admonished, but before he could reach for him himself, Neglin had stepped around Lucilla's chair. As Zym darted away from Ezran and Callum, he backed right into Neglin's legs. The mage struck out in a flash, and caught Zym by his mane. He lifted up, over Zym's cry, and held Zym fast: one hand gripping the scruff behind his head; the other under his belly, fingers splayed around his forelegs. Zym mewled in distress, but his struggle couldn't break the mage's hold.

"Enchanting, indeed, Your Excellency," he said, baring his teeth. "I believe I can make this little fellow...very comfortable."

"Very good," Lucilla beamed, but as she fixed her dark, bead-like eyes on them, her smile became steely again. Callum felt his stomach lurch, and he was grateful that Rayla was still, as far as they knew, free. He had the distinct feeling Lucilla still harbored that grudge against their father. "And as for the Princes, our honored guests.... What shall we do with you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed posting this in time for Marcos's birthday! The chapter's been done since Thursday but I've had a busy couple of days.
> 
> If you have the means, please donate to the OTW! And if you're in the U.S. and over 18, please make sure you are registered to vote! /psa


	8. A Proper Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an elf gains a companion; a noble gets her way; and a prince takes a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"Once I pair my disguise with my perfect human impression, the illusion will be complete."** \- Rayla 
> 
> **"An empty throne is a beacon of weakness. An invitation to destroy us."** \- Lord Viren
> 
> **"A child is freer than a king."** \- King Harrow

Rayla laid flat on her back, pressed into the earth along a row of leafy crops, staying as still as she could be until she heard the wagon wheels creak and roll away. Soon the work song started nearby, though lucky for her, not too nearby. She lifted her head only, careful not to disturb the vegetation around her. She could just barely see that the farmers had taken up positions along the rows of the field that she, Callum, and Ezran had just come through. Silently, Rayla sat up, then crab-walked backward away from them. She kept her eyes on the group the entire time, but none of them looked away from their labor. When she reached the end of the row, she pulled out her cloak. Ignoring the heat of the steadly climbing sun, she threw the cloak over her head, covering her horns. Then she got to her feet and walked calmly toward the nearest cover she could see: a barn a few miles away. 

The farther she got from the field hands, the more confidently she walked. As the barn got closer, she allowed herself some hope that she would be able to hide until night. But that left her with the question of how to find Ezran, Callum, and Zym, and how to help them, if they needed it. She had little doubt that any humans who got their hands on Zym would not willingly give him up, so she was relatively sure help is what would be needed, and the sooner, the better.

Distracted by her thoughts, she did not notice at first a large shadow overhead. Then she heard the shriek of a diving falcon. She looked up just in time to see a huge bird's talons grasping for her head. Its wings flapped madly, and it screamed its rage as its beak snapped shut on the hood of her cloak. She shook her head loose and batted the bird away. Its talons scraped against her vambraces. The bird wheeled and screamed again, diving for her head. She drew her blades in a flash; the bird swooped and climbed out of reach. She ran for the barn, threw open the door, and shut it behind her, but too late: a flurry of feathers shot through the crack near the lintel. The bird flapped around in a circle before coming to rest on one of the roofbeams, shrieking at her madly the whole time.

"What is your problem?" she yelled up at the giant creature. The attack had come as a complete surprise--not just because she had not been paying attention. Animals hardly ever attacked elves, and this one appeared to have some innate magic, as well, making an attack doubly unusual. He was enormous, with bright green coloring at his comb and tail. He was a Callahawk. "Are you...King Harrow's hawk?" she asked in wonder. 

The hawk squawked angrily. 

"Okay, okay," Rayla said, sheathing her knives and holding her palms out. "If you're his hawk, I'm sorry. I didn't kill King Harrow."

The Callahawk cocked its head toward her, bobbed up and down a few times. For a moment, she thought perhaps she'd reached a truce, but then the creature took off again, circling the eaves of the barn. Rayla held up her hands again. "Please, be quiet. I'm trying to hide. Okay?"

The Callahawk flew in a distressed loop, returning to its perch with an indignant caw.

"I'm sorry," Rayla continued sincerely. "I wish Ez were here. He'd understand you, but I can't." Still, she could not resist the temptation to treat the massive hawk as if _he_ could understand _her_. "Were you looking for the princes, I wonder?" she mused. "You must have flown a long way, to find me here."

To her surprise, the hawk gave a short squawk, as if agreeing.

"I think they're in trouble, Ezran and Callum," she said softly. "But I'm going to try to help them. First I need a better disguise, though. So we have to wait here until it's night. Unless you've got a better idea?"

The hawk fluttered down to her level and perched on an iron sconce which was riveted to one of the upright beams. He ruffled his feathers to tuck his wings in at his sides, and whistled some kind of call, which Rayla could not interpret.

"I'll take that as a no," she said glumly. Sensing that the hawk was quiet for the moment, she looked around the barn for anything that might aid her. There were several stalls obviously meant for animals, but no animals at present. There was a small sack of some kind of trail mix, nuts, dried fruit, and seeds. She tried a handful, then another. One corner held some leather straps of tack and a bridle, as well as the tools for mucking out the straw. The bird trilled a few notes as she moved things around, growing more agitated when she went toward the spot.

"You think this will help?" she asked tentatively. The bird bobbed its head up and down, almost like it was encouraging her. Strangely enough, though, as she shifted a horse blanket, she found a pair of work gloves that looked like they might fit, a workman's shirt, and a set of coveralls which would conceal her own clothes. There was even a length of veil cloth, which she could fashion into a covering for her horns. It might work to get her close enough to wherever the villagers had taken Ez and Callum, and then once she had found them, she could shed the garments if necessary so she could fight.

She stowed her cloak and hastily dressed in the human clothes. Wrapping her horns took a few extra minutes, but in the end she thought she had a passable turban, not unlike ones she had seen on the female farmers. 

"How do I look?" she asked the bird. It squawked and clacked its beak at her, she thought, rather disparagingly, if that were possible. "Well, it'll have to do, I suppose," she concluded. Pulling the gloves on, she opened the barn door cautiously, looked around, and when she was sure no one could see her, slipped out. The bird swooped through the door after her.

"Are you coming along?" she said, looking up at the hawk circling over her. It flew to a lone tree standing between the barn and a farmhouse, then circled her again, then back to the branch.

"If you're so smart," she said, "then which way to the princes?"

The bird flew toward the house, then back to the tree. It cocked its head down at her. She stepped into the shade of the tree. Once again, the bird repeated its stepwise pattern: flying a few yards in one direction, back to her. Rayla swallowed. Of course, all Callahawks were magical, but this kind of intelligence was...uncanny. 

"All right," she told the bird. "I'll follow you." The bird took off for the roof of the house, and waited. She joined it, and it took off down the road. As before, it found a place to land, and looked back at her impatiently. "I just hope you're going the right way," she said as she pointed her steps in the hawk's direction.

  


* * *

  


Callum's blood ran cold when the Countess asked what she should do with them. Indeed, most of the court drew a cautious breath. For a terrible moment that stretched into what felt like a lifetime, Callum felt tension rise and he tried to swallow a lump in his throat. But then Ezran said, "Well, our Aunt Amaya says that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And we haven't had a proper breakfast in a while. Maybe we could start with that?"

And the court filled with nervous laughter. The Countess herself cracked an open smile and said, "Very good, Your Highness!" She laughed deep in her belly. "Of course, we must see to it that you are fed. And, I think, perhaps a change of clothes are in order." She nodded to a lady-in-waiting. "Baroness Jessmyn, please see that the young princes are cared for."

The lady, a grey-haired, whip-thin woman in a tight bodice and bell-like skirt, curtseyed. "Yes, Your Excellency," she said, in a very prim, clipped sort of voice. She reminded Callum of the stuffy writing tutor he'd had back when he first came to live in the castle. 

"What about Zym?" Ezran asked, refusing to move from the spot when the Baroness gestured to lead them out of the Countess's presence.

"Who?"

"Zym," Ezran repeated, pointing to the dragonet in the mage's arms. Zym was not struggling, but he clearly did not enjoy the way the mage was holding him. "He's hungry, too."

"Is he your pet, then?" the Countess asked.

"Begging your pardon, m'um," Burk called from the back of the room. "That dragon be ourn." He stepped forward briskly. His boldness subsided, however, when he came face to face with the lady on her throne.

"Yours?" she repeated, making no attempt to disguise her skepticism. 

"You dare address Her Excellency so?" Neglin snapped, and although he looked about half Viren's age, he certainly commanded all of Viren's menace.

But the Countess held up one hand. "Now, Neglin, I'm sure this....person...has a reasonable explanation for his claim. Tell us, I'm sure we all wish to know, how you came to be in possession of the most valuable creature in the world?"

Burk swallowed fearfully. "Wull…" he said, feeling his way toward his answer. Luckily for him, Marin rushed up to join him. 

"It were us, me and Burk here, who copped 'em two, Y'erEx'lence," she insisted. "Copped'em trespassin'. Then we found them two creatures in oor field."

" _Your_ field?" Lucilla verified, eyes narrowing. She turned her head toward her steward. "Rikvan. I am not acquainted with any landowners in the region. Are there, in fact, any fields hereabout that are not mine?"

"No, Your Excellency," Rikvan intoned.

"So. If a dragon is discovered in one of the fields nearby, then such a creature belongs to…."

"You, Your Excellency," Rivkan supplied.

Lucilla leaned forward ever so slightly, and showed her teeth to Burk. "And you are...who, exactly?"

Burk grabbed Marin's hand. "No one, Y'erEx'lence," he muttered, casting his eyes down and dragging Marin back with him.

Marin appeared ready to have another go, just for a moment, but to Callum's relief, she, too, looked downward and backed away, stammering apologies. Lucilla let them abase themselves until they'd drawn themselves to the back of the room. Then she fixed the same predatory smile on Ezran.

"But Your Highness must have his breakfast," she declared.

She nodded to Rivkan, who cleared his throat. "Court is suspended. Her Excellency will hear petitions when Court resumes in the afternoon." Lucilla rose; everyone in the room bowed or curtseyed, and she swept through them. Rivkan, Jessmyn, Neglin, and a couple of guards conducted Callum and Ezran along with them.

They had to follow along into the corridors to another large hall. This one had a table set across one end of the room, near a fireplace. Only one place was set, but as they entered, two servants arrived with additional plates, goblets, and spoons. "Your Royal Highness," Lucilla said to Ezran, gesturing to the middle seat.

Ezran glanced over at Callum and shrugged. "I guess it'd be all right," Callum said. "It...has been a while since we had any real food."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." He turned to Neglin, who was struggling with Zym. "Can you not hold Zym like that? He's uncomfortable. He won't run, if you let him go."

Neglin seemed to suppress a growl, but he inclined his head in acknowledgment. He then bent lower and released Zym, who sprang out of the mage's arms. When Ezran sat in the center chair, Zym hopped into his lap. Bait remained on the floor, but he had turned dark purple. He crawled under Ezran's chair. 

"Prince Callum, please," Lucilla continued, showing Callum to the chair to Ez's left. As she turned away to take her own seat, Callum saw the ghost of a warning pass between her and her mage. Jessmyn curtseyed and excused herself, but Neglin did not leave; he took up a position near the wall. Servants brought out bread, porridge, fruit, and cream. Ezran busied himself with the meal, while Callum gazed across him toward Lucilla nervously.

"Your Aunt will be so relieved when she hears you are safe," Lucilla said, focusing on Ezran. "My condolences to you, Your Highness. May I ask, if you were not abducted, how did you get so very far from Katolis Castle?"

"We walked, mostly," Ezran answered. He put some fruit on the floor, where Bait gobbled it up and turned a little more yellow.

"Alone?" Her eyebrows rose.

"We met some friendly people along the way," Callum said before Ez could volunteer any information.

"But who nevertheless did not conduct you back to your Aunt," she countered.

"If we wanted to go with Aunt Amaya, we could have," said Ezran, tucking in to the breakfast and ignoring Callum's little headshake. "And Zym's not yours. He's not ours, either. He needs to go home to his mother." He picked up another piece of fruit and fed it to Zym. 

"Ah," Lucilla cried, as if a mystery had been solved. "So you're on your way to Xadia?"

Ezran blushed, but he nodded. 

Lucilla poured a glass of fresh milk for him. "But the reports we had said you had been abducted--snatched from your aunt's very arms, by an elf. You must have been frightened."

"Not really," Ezran said pleasantly. 

Lucilla clucked her tongue. "Such a brave young man! And...how were you able to break free?"

"We weren't ever abducted, really," Ezran explained, causing Callum to cradle his forehead in one hand. 

"What Ez means is...there _was_ an elf with us, but she left once Zym here hatched out of his egg," he supplied, laughing nervously. "She wanted the egg, see. But once he hatched...no more egg."

"Then where is she now?" Lucilla asked, smiling too wolfishly for Callum's taste. She leaned in her seat toward Ezran, petting his head. Callum wanted to clap her hand away, but Ezran looked up at her without rancor. 

"She went back to...her tribe," Callum claimed.

"And she didn't take this little fellow with her?" Lucilla questioned. Callum swallowed. He sensed that she already knew he was lying, but was willing to let him spin out the tale just long enough to catch him at it. He felt a little bit like a mouse about to snatch a morsel of cheese out of a trap, and he wasn't sure whether Lucilla was the metal jaws, or the cat waiting to pounce on him once they sprung closed.

Ezran, however, seemed to have no such qualms. He munched away, oblivious to the sparring match taking place on either side of him. "What _Callum_ means is, your farmers are the ones who abducted us, not elves."

Lucilla glanced at Neglin again, and this time, Callum was certain he saw some kind of communication pass between them. 

"Your Highness," she said to Ezran sweetly, "I'm sure there's some misunderstanding. My people would never abduct a royal prince. Surely they brought you here for your safety."

"They brought us so they could get a reward," Ezran retorted, calmly but with a firmness that surprised Callum. It reminded him of King Harrow. "They thought we were trespassing."

"Undoubtedly so," Neglin spoke from his place along the wall, "but nonetheless, Your Highness, it is fortunate that they brought you to us."

"Indeed," Lucilla agreed with her servant. "Among other things, this creature can now be handled properly."

For the first time since they sat down, Ezran regarded her with suspicion. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

"I know it's hard to believe, seeing as he's such an adorable thing right now," Lucilla explained, "but in no time at all, this dragon will grow into a fearsome beast. He could seriously hurt you, Your Highness. Now, Neglin here is as wise a mage as Lord Viren himself, so he can make sure that no one is ever harmed by the creature."

Ezran turned back to Callum, jiggling his head. "Zym's not going to hurt anyone," he pronounced with conviction, narrowing his eyes at Neglin. 

"Not right now, no," the mage allowed, inclining his head again in another respectful bow. "But once he's grown, Your Highness, he will cause destruction. It is the nature of dragons."

"No," Ezran said. He pushed his chair back and stood, which prompted Zym to land on the floor under the table with Bait. "Callum, we should go. I thought maybe they'd help us, but I've heard enough. They're not."

"Finally!" Callum exclaimed, waving his hands in relief. "I don't get why you even waited _this_ long."

"I was eating," Ezran pointed out. "You should have eaten, too. Let's go." He ducked under the table to pick up Bait, while Zym reared himself at Callum's feet. He rested his front paws lightly against Callum's legs, like a puppy begging to be picked up. Callum lifted him into his arms.

"I think not," Lucilla answered. She clapped her hands twice and four soldiers came into the room. "Your Highness, I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to put your life in further danger. You must stay here."

"You can't order us around," Ezran insisted. "We'll be fine. I was hoping you could help us, but Callum was right. We just can't ask grown-ups to do this. You don't understand. So we have to do it ourselves. Thank you for breakfast, though."

"It pains me to do this, Your Highness, but--Guards! Please conduct the princes to the guest chambers. Neglin: take the creature."

"Run, Callum!" Ezran shouted, and pushed his brother toward the end of the table. But there was nowhere to go. Zym leapt out of Callum's arms and rushed around the room, but Callum found himself held by guards at either side. Ezran had ducked under the table and out the other side, evading Lucilla and the guards, but Neglin stepped forward in a flash to grab him. 

"Take the Prince; leave the dragon to me," he told the guards. 

"What are you going to do with him?" Ezran demanded, as Lucilla walked with them through the corridors of her keep.

"I already told you, Your Highness," she said. "Neglin will make sure that your discovery is put to the best use for the realm." They arrived outside a large double-door, where Baroness Jessmyn waited at attention. She dropped a curtsey as they approached, then opened the door to a large, well-furnished bedchamber. Lucilla ordered the guards to take Ezran inside "and make him comfortable, Jessmyn. I wish to speak to Prince Callum for a moment. Alone."

When the door shut on Jessmyn, Ezran, and Bait, Callum crossed his arms and scowled up at her. 

"Your brother doesn't really understand, does he? That King Harrow is dead," she said flatly.

Callum ignored her bald statement. "You're not going to tell our aunt that we're here, are you?" he asked instead.

"Is that what you think?" Lucilla replied, chortling. "Callum, you wound me." She touched him on the shoulder. "You've spent too long in Viren's company. You probably think I have some fiendish fate in store for you both, but nothing could be farther from the truth. I want you safe, as does your aunt. Even now, Viren is making his play for the throne. It's in no one's interest that he succeed; it is very much in my interest to see your brother ascend his rightful seat. And I will use every tool at my disposal to ensure that he does."

"But what does that mean?" Callum pressed.

"It means, Prince Ezran himself shall write to General Amaya--and to Lord Viren." She looked down at Callum with brimful sympathy. "You know, as well as I, that your brother must be crowned, as soon as possible. But he's too young to reign alone. He will need advisors. Since you have arrived in my custody, it stands to reason that I shall protect you until such time as we return to Katolis Castle."

"We?" Callum repeated, stomach fluttering.

"Why, of course. You see, in your brother's letters, he will name me his benefactor, and declare his intention to add me to the Council, in gratitude for my protection in this difficult time. After his Coronation, he will name me Lady Protector. And he will send Viren packing, and install Neglin as High Mage." Her face darkened. "You may think me a monster, but I assure you, Neglin is a far preferable alternative to that snake, Viren." 

Callum had to admit that Viren had shown his true colors that horrible night, and they weren't pretty. But he didn't like the sound of Lucilla's plan much better. "Why can't we just write to Aunt Amaya? She'd take Ezran back and protect him," he pointed out.

"She would," Lucilla admitted, "but that doesn't suit me very well. You see, if your Aunt brings you back, I'd still be stuck in this miserable quarter of the kingdom. So, your royal brother had better do as he's told." She bared her teeth again, as if she could hardly contain her frustration. "Or I might grow less generous with his companions." The threat, though not spelled out, was clear. Callum paled; his eyes widened. He nodded slowly, in a dawning understanding that they were well and truly caught in her web, for now.

She smiled again, but it was cold, with no affection. "Now. You must explain to him what I require." She patted his shoulder. "Spit-spot, little step-prince." She gestured to the guard, who opened the door again. Ezran could vaguely be heard complaining inside.

"One more thing," Lucilla added, turning back to Callum. "Your elf guide. Where is she really?"

"I told you, she left--"

"Nonsense. I told _you_ , we had reports. Moreover, we received word that an elf witch was spotted recently, in the company of two boys, all of whom ran from the villagers up the Cursed Caldera. If you'd traveled all that way together, she would not have abandoned you once the dragon was hatched. So, where is she?"

Callum grimaced. "I honestly don't know," he admitted.

Lucilla sighed. "No matter. She can't hide for long. Now, go on and do as I tell you. Convince your brother to cooperate. Let us all be jolly friends, for everyone's sake. Or I shall be forced to use less agreeable methods to induce him to do what is right."

She spun around without waiting for Callum to acknowledge her. The guards pushed Callum inside the bedroom and shut the door before he could protest at all.

"Hey, Callum, tell her we don't need baths," Ezran said as soon as he saw him.

"We...don't need baths," Callum said, without emotion or conviction.

"I beg to differ, Your Highness," the Baroness sniffed. "I have had suitable clothing brought; you will feel much better once you are clean and dressed in fresh clothing." She gestured to an inner door, beyond which Callum could see servants pouring buckets of hot water into a tub.

"We might as well get clean," Callum sighed. "We haven't washed in a while."

" _You_ haven't," Ezran teased. "I got dunked in a frozen lake three days ago."

"Yeah, but you still smell," Callum pointed out. "Go on and bathe, Ez. It's okay."

They took their turns, doing their best to ignore the audience of extra personnel. The garments which were laid out for them were a lighter weight and fewer layers, more suitable for the warm weather of the plains. Ezran's new tunic was dark blue, with an emblem that looked like a sheaf of wheat embroidered in gold thread on the sleeves and the back. There was also a pair of soft tan trousers to replace his soiled darker ones. Callum traded his liripipe hood, fingerless gloves, maroon tunic and blue cote for a much plainer tunic of pale green, a simple black hood, and matching black pants. Only a delicate silver line of embroidery on his hood, and around the cuffs of his sleeves, adorned his garb.

By the time they had dressed, the servants had brought in a desk, paper, pen, and inkwell. "Lucilla wants you to write to Aunt Amaya," Callum said, so that the guards and servants could hear him say it. He turned to Baroness Jessmyn. "Uh...we're fine. You don't need to stay here."

"My Countess orders that we attend you," she said crisply, through her pinched, wrinkled frown.

"But we don't need attending, right now," Callum pointed out. "I--need to talk to my brother."

Jessmyn exhaled through her nose in barely concealed distaste. "Very well. I shall have your clothes cleaned and...repaired, and bring you some tea."

"Thank you," Callum said politely. The servants, who had been cleaning the bathroom, trooped out behind her. The guards followed, but Callum saw that they took up positions on either side of the door as it closed on him and his brother.

"We're prisoners," Ezran concluded immediately.

"Yeah, looks like it," Callum agreed. "And it gets worse." Sitting heavily on the bed, he gathered his strength. He had put this moment off long enough. He had to find a way to explain to Ezran that Harrow was dead. Technically, Ezran was King. If he lived long enough to be crowned.


	9. Beside the Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a decision is made; a debate is settled; and new information comes to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"Maybe we took a wrong turn and wound up on Sleepy Slope."** \- Rayla
> 
>  **"It is tradition to mourn fallen kings for seven sunsets. You've not even given him one."** \- Opeli
> 
>  **"It's a Sunforge blade. In Xadia, Sunfire elves can make magic weapons that stay as hot as the moment they're forged for hundreds of years."** \- Rayla

"Well?" Soren repeated. "What do we do now?"

"I'm thinking," Claudia answered. She pushed off from the rocky wall of the rim and edged close to the overhang. "Any other day, I'd want to hang around until dark to see what monsters live up here. But...we're still on a mission. Or half of one, anyway."

"Are we?" Soren asked. "I mean...we _could_ go home."

"What?" Claudia cried. Had her brother gone mad? 

"Hear me out," Soren requested. "Okay." He paused, and she waited. Logic was not one of his strong suits, so she let him gather his thoughts. "Let's start with your secret task. You were supposed to bring back the egg--but the egg is smashed. Which, really, is what everyone thought about it all this time, right? So, actually, if you think about it, you can tell Dad that the egg was destroyed and he'll understand. I mean, he might be pissed, but he'll get over it." He raised his eyebrows, as if asking her to check his math.

"Well...if it's gone, then at least the elves can't use it against us, I guess," Claudia agreed, surprised. Soren made a good point. And he was totally right that Dad would forgive her. He always did.

"Right," said Soren, nodding. He was warming to the use of his deductive powers. "That leaves...my secret mission. Which, like you said, we're not going to carry out. Well, what if we _say_ that whatever destroyed the egg must have also destroyed the princes by the time we got here?"

This time, Claudia couldn't concede to his reasoning. "But, we don't _know_ what happened here. And there's nothing up here to suggest--"

"Yes. Yes, there is!" Soren interrupted excitedly. "The shards from your primal stone thingy. It got smashed, too. What would have happened when it broke?"

Claudia narrowed her eyes as she thought through the answer. "It...would have...released the storm that was trapped inside." She gasped. "So you think we can safely say that the stone somehow got broken, or broke open, or whatever, maybe fighting with that elf girl? And that the resulting storm also smashed the egg--and that it…killed Callum and Ezran, too?"

"Yeah, or blew them off that cliff, or something," Soren crowed. "Why not? It's as good an explanation as anything. And we can go home and get back to our lives, and stop messing around with this stupid--" he broke off as she put a hand on his arm.

"Hey. It's okay, Sor. No wonder you've been on edge this whole time."

Soren blushed and looked away from her, fists clenched. "I just--if we can't complete the mission, then I just want to go back home where things make sense. Even if there's no king to guard right now, there's still a castle. And the Council. I belong beside the throne, not on it."

"Well, I still would like to see what this mountain has to offer," Claudia commented wistfully, "but it's true that if we turn back now, we can at least honestly say that the evidence suggests that the princes and the egg are both gone for good."

"Okay. So...what if we go back down to that village, and get a proper meal. Katz, I'll even get us rooms at the inn. And you can come back up here tonight to check out the monsters, if you want, and tomorrow we go back to the castle and tell Dad he can stop worrying about the royal brat and the step-prince." He tried to keep his anger from bleeding through again, but missed.

Claudia pursed her lips. "You were doing so well, right up until the end there." She sighed. "Maybe we should at least explore the other side of the mountain for a day or two. I mean...we should at least try to warn Callum not to come back for a while. Until things calm down, anyway."

Soren crossed his arms. "There's nothing on that side but forests, farms, and Long Neck Bay. If they really are alive, they've sailed across by now. It's the fastest way to the Breach."

"Then, there's the whole 'lying to Dad' part," Claudia pointed out. "I mean. Eventually, he'll find out they're still alive."

"If they're alive," Soren repeated.

"Right," Claudia said, drawing out the word to point out that "alive" was in fact the preferred reality, in spite of her brother's orders. She sighed again, weighing the options. Past this point, she had no leads on their location. They had no idea where Ezran and Callum were heading, but given that they'd come this far, it seemed likely that the elf who kidnapped them was taking them to the Breach. If they escaped somehow, they would likely go straight to General Amaya. If what had happened up here really had been the result of some kind of altercation, it was just as likely that elves had killed them as it was that the storm had blown them over the precipice.

"Tell you what," she told Soren after another minute or so of furious, circular thinking that was giving her a headache. "Let's go back down, but this time, we'll check the area directly below here. If they did fall, they might be down there somewhere. If they didn't…." she trailed off. "We can make a decision whether to keep going or fall back and find them another way."

"That works for me," Soren replied with half a smile. While he turned the horses to reverse their trek down the spiraling path, Claudia gathered up some of the fragments of egg and glass shards from the primal stone. She stowed them in a drawstring sack and joined him. "It'll be too late for lunch by the time we get back to that town," Soren mused as they walked. "Maybe they serve tea? What's halfway between lunch and dinner? Linner? Lupper?"

"Lunper," Claudia offered with a giggle. Hearing Soren crack a joke, even a terrible one, was quite a comfort. She still felt horribly uneasy about going home without some better "evidence" of Callum and Ezran's "demise." But Soren had a point: if they weren't going to kill them--and she was firmly of the opinion that they should not--then they would have to do something neither of them had done very often: they would have to lie to their father.

She really didn't want to lie. But she really, really didn't want to find Callum's corpse at the bottom of the valley, either. For one thing, she hoped someday to find out what had happened to her primal stone. Okay, that wasn't the only reason. It wasn't even near to the top three reasons. The point was, in the grand scheme of things, lying to Dad was definitely the best option.

She just hoped he'd forgive her when, inevitably, he found out about it.

  


* * *

  


"General Amaya was very clear," Opeli reminded the Council. "Our priority must be to find Prince Ezran and restore him to the capitol, so we may hold his Coronation." She twisted in her seat to fix a challenging look toward Viren. "Have you had any word from Soren and Claudia?"

"Not yet," Viren said, leaning back, "but I myself saw the tracking spell that Claudia cast two nights ago. I expect them to arrive near the prince's last known location today." He looked at each Councilor in turn: to his immediate right, Jamik, then Pontul, Rozali, Mopatis, Boulara, Cumar, and last, Opeli. Two seats to his left, between himself and Opeli, were vacant: Harrow's and Amaya's. Of the rest, he knew he could count on Boulara, but as Exchequer, she was probably the least important member at the moment. Nor did he particularly need Pontul, the Castellan, except as support for a majority. General Mopatis, he thought, would be inclined to see things his way, which was a help, but would not carry on its own. He was most concerned with winning favor from Chief Justiciar Rozali and Cumar, the High Constable. If they endorsed his position, the others were certain to follow. Opeli's objections would be rendered immaterial.

So, he let his gaze rest on Cumar and continued, "It's too early to hear from them. We ought to give them a little more time to complete their task."

Cumar nodded, his pillbox hat and veil bobbing, but on Viren's right, Jamik said, "The other Kingdoms of the Pentarchy have been contacting our ambassadors with their condolences, but there's an undertone of uncertainty from the communications. As far as I know, no one is aware yet that Prince Ezran is...missing, but they are anxious to see Katolis confirm our new ruler."

"We'll just have to ignore their concern for now," Opeli declared. "It's well-known that we mourn for seven days. Despite the--the _rush_ to lay King Harrow to rest," she darted a look toward Viren that conveyed just the barest hint of new rebuke, "it has only been five."

"That only leaves us two days to find the Crown Prince, and bring him home," Pontul explained unnecessarily. They could all count. He stroked his lengthy beard, which extended down almost to his ample belly, as if to make up for the hair he was losing on top. "Opeli's right: We cannot wait for Viren's children to return."

"No one else is close to the prince's last known location," Viren pointed out. "Even if General Mopatis left today," he inclined his head toward the large, bald soldier across from him, "he and his troops could not cover the distance, find the prince, and get back by the end of the week."

"That is true," rumbled the General in his deep bass, "but General Amaya could dispatch troops from the Standing Battalion to help find them. Or we might send messenger birds to all the Counties and Baronies on the eastern borders."

"I've already sent messenger birds," Rozali commented mildly. Viren regarded her in surprise.

"You...what?" Viren asked, suppressing an angry growl. He needed Rozali, and getting annoyed at her would not win her to his side. 

Rozali shrugged. Her shoulders were her most muscular feature, and no wonder. The rest of her looked as frail and thin as a bird, from her tight, steel-grey bun to her pointed chin, from the legs she kept hidden under specially made robes, to her long, claw-like fingers. But her voice was still steady and strong, and practical as always. "I've already sent messages to the Counties and Baronies in the east. I sent them, on my authority, three days ago. It seemed prudent, once we heard that the princes were abducted, to notify all the Crown's vassals to be on the lookout."

"Ah. Yes, of course," Viren said. He managed to make his voice sound supportive. "That was well thought-out." He cleared his throat. "Nonetheless, Jamik's point is valid: We cannot hold a Coronation at the conclusion of the mourning period, even if we wished to, without the Prince here to be crowned. And with messages in the field, it's only a matter of time before foreigners realize that Ezran is unavailable, at present. But there's another consideration, and another solution. Even assuming we are able to bring him home, Prince Ezran will need a Regent until he comes of age. There is no reason to delay selecting one of the Council to be that person."

"Meaning you still think we should install _you_ as that Regent?" Opeli scoffed.

Anticipating this, Viren shook his head. "No. I was...wrong to act so hastily before. I propose that we confirm Pontul to the post."

"Me?" Pontul sputtered, his eyes almost as wide as his broad frame. "But--"

His shock was drowned out by everyone at the table erupting at once, just as Viren intended. In the rôle of Castellan, Pontul was responsible for the management of the castle, its stores, its staff, and the daily operations of the royal household. He had little experience in statecraft, and his presence on the High Council was largely a courtesy. He was, of all of them, perhaps least qualified for the job of Regent. As Viren watched, the Council descended into chaos. 

"Quiet, quiet, everyone!" he called, once he judged that the furor had peaked. "I'm aware that Pontul has no interest in the throne. That makes him a perfect Steward for the time being."

"I'm sure none of us bear you ill will, Pontul, but General Amaya should be Lady Protector," Cumar said. "She was Queen Sarai's sister. As Prince Ezran's Aunt, she's closest to the throne."

"I agree!" Pontul squeaked loudly. 

"I already offered her that very thing," Viren answered drily. "She turned it down. Regardless, the Pentarchy must be assured that the Kingdom is in capable hands, and as soon as possible."

"If General Amaya has no interest, then what about you, Mopatis?" Rozali asked. "As Commander of the combined armies--"

"Forgive me," Viren interrupted, "but meaning no disrespect, I fear that naming the General will cause concern among the Pentarchy. It would be seen as a signal that we are consolidating our military might and choosing a wartime leader, which, while it strengthens our position with respect to Xadia, may invite suspicion among the other human kingdoms. They might even suspect we turn our gaze toward them, rather than on Xadia alone. Would you agree, Jamik?"

The turbaned Chief Ambassador stroked his smooth cheek. "It...might be seen as an escalation and a threat. But, I think it would be relatively easy to communicate to the Pentarchy that our intention is merely defensive, against any further attack from the magical realms."

"Be that as it may," General Mopatis said slowly, "I believe I serve Katolis best by commanding our forces exclusively. King Harrow was a noble warrior, and an able commander, but he was also accomplished at diplomacy. I have no such skill." He shook his head. "If you all insist, I will serve Katolis beside the throne, and guide our Prince's decisions, but I would wish it otherwise."

There was a moment of silence as they all considered his dignified answer. Viren swallowed slowly, not daring to show relief. That was close--and it could have been a disaster.

"Cumar? What about you?" Opeli pushed, breaking the spell of Mopatis' words. "You have military experience, too, and you command the constabulary. At least that gives us some protection while we wait for Soren to return."

Cumar pressed his fingers to his brow in salute. "Thank you for your confidence, but--no. I agree with Viren that our realm is vulnerable at present. But as the General says of his troops, so too must I focus on our domestic safety. I must concentrate my effort upon building up our militia, so that we maintain a strong defense."

Viren felt a little leap of satisfaction. Cumar's response was exactly what he'd hoped, and after the near miss with Mopatis, it was a welcome refusal. Rozali spoke again. "Jamik, you are a logical choice. Your knowledge of diplomacy with the Pentarchy--your experience honoring our alliances--you can advise the Prince appropriately, once he's crowned."

Jamik smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth. "I...suppose I could, if--if you all agree."

Great Katol, it was difficult not to snarl. Viren knew Jamik had strong qualifications. He could not raise an objection to every other member of the Council; it would be too suspicious. He just had to gamble on this possible outcome. He could only hope that, as with Mopatis, the dice landed in his favor. He held his tongue, allowing the conversation to move as others dictated.

After a few minutes' debate, Boulara leaned forward on her elegant hands. The metal bands fastening her elaborate braids clicked against one another as she moved. "Opeli, I understand your concerns. Viren's decision was premature. Some might even say, imperious." She locked eyes with him, but he saw the flirtatious twinkle in her dark irises and dropped his head humbly.

"As I said, I regret that--"

"But," she continued, looking around at the others. "Of all of us, Viren was always closest to King Harrow. He has the best knowledge of King Harrow's plans for our kingdom. And I believe he was motivated by his extreme fear for all our safety. He acted imprudently, but not inappropriately. I believe that we should reconsider his suitability as Lord Protector."

He could have kissed her. She had delivered the perfect setup, with barely any manipulation on his part. Opeli made little effort to mask her distaste, Rozali was stone-faced, but the others nodded thoughtfully. It helped that of all of them, Boulara rarely spoke, and when she did, it was generally measured and persuasive. This was no exception.

"I am prepared to endorse Lord Viren," Rozali said gravely, "provided that he consents to two points. First, he will agree that any foreign policy decisions will be made by the entire Council, not himself unilaterally." She paused, watching for his answer.

"My hand may be forced by circumstance, if we face a situation in which there is no time for debate," Viren warned. "But to the extent possible, yes, I will make that promise."

"And your second condition?" Cumar asked her.

"That we revisit his appointment once Prince Ezran has returned."

Viren smiled. "That, I will gladly concede," he said without hesitation. If Soren fulfilled his mission, the day of Ezran's return would never come. Katolis would not be turned over to a spoiled, soft-hearted boy, and in time, the Council would recognize that Viren's leadership was all that stood between the Kingdom and ruination. 

Rozali nodded. "Then I declare in favor of Lord Viren's claim as Steward and Lord Protector. Jamik, do you wish to challenge?"

Jamik shook his head. "I declare in favor of Lord Viren. Mopatis, do you wish to challenge?"

"I have already said I do not desire the job. I declare in favor of Lord Viren. Pontul, do you wish to challenge?"

The portly man grew pale. "No, no, not at all! I declare in favor of Lord Viren. Cumar, er, do you wish to challenge?"

They continued around the table. Cumar declined again and declared for Viren; Boulara declared in his favor, as he knew she would. Then Opeli said, "I object, and based on General Amaya's actions on her visit, I am comfortable entering her objection by proxy."

"So noted." Rozali nodded. "But the claim carries, by six to two. Lord Viren, do you accept?"

Viren rose and bowed to them all. "I do. May I be worthy of your trust," he said solemnly. As he straightened, he glimpsed Boulara and gave her a half-smile. She dropped her eyes in a way that conveyed her subtle seductiveness. He made a note to seek her out privately, later, to thank her for her support in a way that would keep her on his side, where he wanted her. But not now.

Opeli also stood. "I will go prepare the anointments. If we are to do this, we should do it properly, this time." Without waiting for anyone's response, she turned and strode away from the table.

"I think we are done, anyway," Rozari said with a shrug. She pushed her wheelchair back; her attendant stepped forward quickly to turn and wheel her toward the door.

As the Council went their separate ways, Viren headed to his private study. He had lugged the Katol-cursed mirror back upstairs, to conduct his investigations in more comfort than in the dank dungeon chamber. "Worse than death," the elf had called it. But what did it _do_? 

The runes were the key, he was sure, and so far, they were unknown to him. He had searched every book he knew for symbols that resembled those around the frame, to no avail. The only one that looked even remotely recognizable was halfway down the left side. He felt certain he had seen it before, but could not remember. For months, he had traced the rune with his fingers, hoping the action would trigger a memory, or even a spell, but nothing came. It danced away from him like a mote of dust in the air.

He removed the drape and studied the tantalizingly familiar figure. It curved almost like Himazz, the rune which meant "image," but Himazz had two "tails" emanating from its vertical line. This had only one tail, more like Pashwazz, which translated to "body" in Draconic. Only Pashwazz had more separation and no curve to its lines, like an inverted V. Perhaps it was a more ancient variation of one or the other?

Turning to his shelves, Viren caught sight of his own tunic in the mirrored surface--and froze. He looked closely at the embroidered insets, still visible in the reflection. Only...it wasn't a reflection. Not exactly. The pattern of the embossed velvet was reversed--the swirls and leaf edges that curved left to right on his own chest were shown right to left in the glass, and vice-versa. He stepped back into full view of the mirror and checked carefully again. No, it was as it should be: now the patterns curved the same way in both reality and its likeness. It must have been a trick of the light. With a disappointed sigh, he turned from the mirror and went back to his research. 

He would discover its secrets, in time. Even if he spent the rest of his life, and never succeeded, however, at least he had scored a more immediate victory today. He could rest easier knowing that Katolis would soon be safe in his hands.

  


* * *

  


Soren gave the reins to the inn's stable boy with instructions for the horses' care, then held open the door to the inn for his sister. He followed her inside.

"I'm telling you," someone was saying as they crossed the threshhold, "that dirty elf tried to steal my dagger! I barely escaped with my life."

"We've heard all this before, Harmon," his companion grumbled. "No one's interested."

"I'm interested," Soren said brightly, stepping across the room to the ginger-haired, slim man. He was dressed in a simple shirt and vest, with a fur-trimmed cloak tossed over his shoulders. Two matching, thin dueling scars decorated his high cheekbones. He and his complaining audience were seated at a table near the far wall. "I said, I'm interested. When did you see this 'dirty elf?'"

Soren ignored the halt to conversation their arrival had caused. Claudia appeared at his elbow, looking just as curious.

"That, my friend, is a thirsty sort of tale," the mercenary replied with a toothy grin. His friend groaned and leaned back on the bench where he was sitting. 

"No--not again! Good sir, please...he's told this tale at least a dozen times in the last two days!"

"Well. He can tell it again." Soren dropped to the bench, effectively trapping the mercenary's companion. Claudia perched on the edge of the opposite bench, at an angle so as not to get too close to their newest lead. Soren flagged down the innkeep, a bustling woman with cropped black hair, caramel-colored skin, a flat nose, and wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. He ordered a round for the table. "Think of it as payment for your trouble," Soren said to the stranger.

"If I leave, can I still have the drink?" he asked.

Soren stared at him for a few seconds. When he was satisfied that the villager had backed down, he stood up to let him out of the booth. "No," he said, sitting down again once the man scurried on his way. He scooted over so that Claudia could switch and they could both face their new acquaintance.

The mercenary told his story, with details Soren highly doubted, but did not question. Claudia asked enough questions for both of them. When the innkeeper brought them four tankards of ale, Soren took two of them. He waited for the man to finish one, then pushed the extra tankard over, still full, to keep him talking.

"So...the elf only wanted to cut something with your blade?" Claudia verified.

"I tell you, it was eerie. I've fought scores of those devils on the front lines, but she seized my dagger in the blink of an eye. She wasn't concerned about burning herself, either, m'lady. She kept trying to use the blade for something tied around her wrist."

"Oooh, let me guess: Was it a white ribbon with a crescent-shaped clasp?" 

Soren glanced quizically over at his sister. Why was she so excited about a ribbon? But to his further confusion, the soldier-for-hire nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes, just so! When she couldn't cut through it, I thought for sure she was going to kill me. I tackled her before she could rush me again. I wrestled the dagger away, but when I grabbed it, it slipped out of my hands and landed in the bridge. You can see the hole it made if you like. I'll show it to you! It went three inches into the stone. By the time I reached it to draw it out, she had fled."

"Fled...up the caldera?" Claudia asked.

"Not at first. I called the Watch. We found her and two human boys loitering by the fountain at the town square."

"So you chased them up the caldera?" Soren concluded sourly.

"Well, not intentionally. They ran up there. No one's seen them since. No point looking, really. No one ever comes back."

" _We_ came back," Soren retorted, but Claudia put out her hand to stop him nit-picking. 

"We've heard some of the stories about the caldera, but honestly, we didn't find any sign that they died up there, not above or below," she said secretively. "How can you be so sure?"

"Begging your pardon, m'lady, sir," he said, less comfortable since Soren's objection, "but you went up there in the daylight. The terrors are worse--much worse--at night. And it was late when they ran out of town. By the time they got halfway to the rim, it would have been night. Most likely they've been eaten by the monsters and there's nothing left of them to find."

Claudia smiled. She nodded to Soren to tell him she was finished. Soren left a few more coins behind and they moved to another table to speak privately. He sat facing the door, as he always did when he had the choice, and ordered them some Lunper while they were at it.

"So?" he asked when the innkeeper had left them alone again.

"So...that ribbon. The other elves had them, too, including the one we kept alive," Claudia reminded him. 

"But the ribbons we found around the King's chamber were all red," Soren pointed out.

"They each had two. The ones that we found on the floor were red. The one he had was white. And if you ask me, it was constricting his arm. In Dad's cell, his hand looked like all the blood flow was being cut off."

He shrugged. "Okay, so they're into..uh...really right armbands? Isn't that called...bondage?" 

"No!" Claudia said, recoiling. "Who would--why would you even go there? No. I think they represent some kind of blood oath--an assassin credo or something. One binding per promised death." She lowered her voice, aware that they were in public. "They were there to--" she whispered now-- "kill the king." She brought her voice back up to a normal level. "But what if he wasn't the only target? What if they were also going after Ez?"

"Sure," Soren agreed with another shrug. "The only problem is, the elf _had_ Ez, remember? If this ribbon was hurting her so bad she'd be willing to burn herself to cut it off...why not just--finish the job? Wouldn't it...turn red and fall off, like the other one?"

Claudia nodded. "Unless she had a reason _not_ to 'finish the job,'" She grinned. He still wasn't sure why that mattered, but he figured she'd tell him before they finished their meal. As if on cue, their stew came out of the kitchen, steaming hot. It smelled okay. Soren hoped it tasted all right, too. He reached for the spoon. Just before he bent over the bowl, however, he was alerted to some motion by the door. Someone was coming in. He looked up out of habit at the new arrivals, and nearly jumped out of his seat. 

"What is it?" Claudia asked as he rushed to the door.

"Pan! Marcos!" he greeted the newcomers warmly. "What are you doing here?'

"We're looking for you, sir," Lieutenant Pan answered. "Your father sent us to warn you about Commander Gren. He's a traitor: he's working with the Elves. And he's on his way here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am watching election returns and getting more and more nervous, so if you, like me, need some distraction, have a chapter. 
> 
> In other news: I am starting a new job next week! I have no idea how that will affect my writing, but I promise I will continue, even if updates are a little less frequent.
> 
> See you on the other side.


	10. Good To See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which brothers argue; a possible solution presents itself; and a warm reunion turns chilly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"...With animals, somehow I have this...connection. And a few years ago, I realized I could understand what they were saying."** \- Prince Ezran
> 
>  **"We're in this together. We're friends now."** \- Rayla
> 
>  **"Couldn't we do this someplace warmer?"** \- Soren

Callum found it unusually difficult to speak. It wasn't like the spell Viren had cast, that sickening feeling of his voice jumping out of his body; it was more like the force of emotion had formed a lump in his throat, where his breath should be. He patted the bed next to him. "Sit down, Ez. There's some things we need to talk about."

"About Lucilla?" Ezran asked, climbing up next to him.

"Yeah, and about the night we ran away."

Ezran looked for Bait, as if he sensed from Callum's serious mood that he would need reassurance. The glowtoad had crawled under the bed, so Ezran hopped down to the floor. At the moment he reached under the slats, they heard a loud, high-pitched cry outside. Something battered at the shutters on the window.

"Rayla!" called Ezran excitedly, over Callum's reminder to keep quiet. The younger boy ran to the window, opening the shutters carefully. Callum rose as well, more tentative. A moment later, a massive black and green bird flew in. It flapped wildly and circled the room before perching on the bedstead.

"Pip!" they both cried in amazement. Callum winced at the noise they were making. He checked behind them; the door was still shut. No one seemed to have heard, for now.

"Pip, what are you doing here?" Ezran asked. Callum held his tongue. Where once he would have scoffed at his brother's claim to speak to animals, now he knew better. If Pip had a tale, then Ezran could interpret it for them. Assuming Pip could tell it quietly. Bait crawled out to see the source of the commotion. To Callum's immense relief, the Callahawk communicated in low trills and coos, rather than the screeches he feared.

"He found Rayla," Ezran reported, stroking the bird's head. "She's looking for a way up." Callum poked his head over the sill. He'd kept track as they'd been led to the chamber, so he knew they were on an upper floor--though not nearly as high as their tower room in the castle. The shadows' length showed that evening was falling already, and this side of the fort was already out of the sunlight. Below them, he could see the gloomy palisade fence with its sharp-pointed staves, making entry into the compound difficult. He felt certain there were guards above the roof, watching out for any possible incursion. He turned back to Ezran.

"Well, Ez, it could be a while before Rayla can make it in here. But...look, it's time we talked. You know why Lucilla wants you to write letters, right?"

"Because she wants Aunt Amaya to know we're okay?" Ezran asked. "No, I know why. She thinks we can somehow ask for her to have more influence. Maybe more land."

"More power," Callum corrected. "She wanted to be the one to bring us home. She wants you to name her...your Regent."

Ezran glanced at Pip before looking back to Callum. The hawk bobbed its head, warbling mournfully. "Well, I can't name anyone Regent," Ezran said quietly. "I'm not the King."

"Not--officially, no," Callum sighed. "Ez...you do understand, don't you? That Harrow--that _Dad's_ \--"

"He's not dead, Callum," Ezran insisted.

"Yeah. Yes, he is, buddy," Callum choked out, blinking back tears. "You have to know that. I'm sorry, Ez, but--"

"No, Callum, I'm _telling_ you, he's not. He's okay. Well, not okay, but--"

"Ez. Stop. Please. I can't take this. Don't make me explain, okay?" Callum sank onto the bed again. "The night we left--you heard what Rayla said. The Elves had a mission. Those bindings--one was for you, the one Rayla still had. The one Zym tore off. But the other was--"

"Callum, I _know_. I'm not stupid. I know what she said, but she's wrong. Dad's not dead."

"Ez--"

"He's. Not. Dead!" Ezran shouted, stomping his foot. Bait turned blue and retreated back under the bed frame.

Callum expelled a breath of barely contained frustration. He was having much more trouble than he'd anticipated, holding it together, and Ezran's stubbornness was just making his heart hurt worse. "Ez. Please," he said, barely making noise above a whisper. "It's hard enough to tell you this...without--"

"Callum." Ezran came over and took his brother's hand. "Listen to me, okay? I _know_ he's not dead. Pip's--"

"If Pip is here, what does that tell you? How do you think he found us? If Dad were alive--"

"I didn't say that. I said he's not dead," Ezran began, but before he could expound on that bizarre statement, they felt a thud against the outer wall. Callum pointed at the window. The tip of one of Rayla's hooked blades bit into the wooden sill, then the other; then Rayla's horns, followed by the rest of her head. She hauled herself over the ledge and into the room, landing in a crouch against the wall.

"Rayla! It's so good to see you," Callum said as he and Ezran both moved toward her. But Rayla had no time for happy greetings.

"Quick, check outside. I don't think they saw me, but make sure. If you look out, maybe they'll think it was you," she said to Callum in a rush.

Callum moved to comply. Outside, there was a hammering on the door. "Your Highnesses? Is everything all right in there?" 

"Uh...Yes! Yes, we're fine. Thank you," Callum called. "Just...opening the window for some air." He motioned to the other two and Pip. "Quick--into the bathroom!" he hissed at them. They could hear the clank of a keyring; the guard was unlocking the door. Rayla flipped over and propelled herself toward the inner chamber, not even pausing long enough to come fully upright. She lurched into the bathroom while Ezran hurried after her. "C'mon!" he beckoned to the bird, which flew directly inside as well. Ezran barely got the door shut before the guard entered.

"Where is the Crown Prince?" he asked curtly, seeing Callum alone.

"Doing his royal business," Callum retorted. He drew himself up as tall as possible, which was still not nearly as tall as the guard. "We don't require assistance," he asserted.

"The window is not to be opened," the guard told him. He crossed toward it. Callum jumped in his path, aware of the gouges from Rayla's grappling hooks.

"We were warm," he said. But the guard elbowed him out of the way, not hard, but not particularly respectfully, and closed the shutters. 

"Her Excellency's orders are to keep the windows closed, young prince."

"Well, she didn't order us," Callum replied. He attempted to speak with authority. "That will be all, then."

"Has His Highness written the letter Her Excellency requested?" the guard inquired, ignoring Callum's demeanor.

Callum gritted his teeth. Why did she have to have competent servants? "We're...still working on it. We'll have something for her soon."

"By nightfall, Her Excellency said."

"Oh? Oh. Uh...yes. Well, it's not nightfall yet," Callum said, though he was aware it was closer than he would have liked. His eye slid to the bathroom door.

So did the guard's. "Perhaps we should fetch Lord Neglin for whatever ails His Highness?"

"He's not _ailing_ ," Callum corrected, "he's just _occupied_. Now leave us." He stared up at the guard, willing himself not to blink.

The guard blinked. "Nightfall, young prince," he repeated, with just the hint of a threat. But he left, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

Callum opened the bathroom door. "It's okay. He's gone, but we have to be quiet." He glanced around the room. "Think we could climb down if we made a rope out of the bedsheets?"

"We can't leave without Zym," Ezran commented.

"And we can't leave until it's darker than this," Rayla added. "I barely made it over the wall without being seen."

Callum shook his head. "The guard made a big deal out of keeping the window closed. I think he saw the scratches from your blades, Rayla. We don't have time to wait."

"We'll be caught that way," Ezran said, "and we have to find Zym. Let's wait until supper and see if we can find out where he is." 

Sensing he was outnumbered, Callum shook his head. Even Bait was a light shade of purple, indicating his doubt. "Okay. How are we gonna do that?" 

"By playing into Lucilla's hands," Ezran said confidently. "She wants a letter. I'm gonna write one. But I won't sign it until she gives us Zym back."

 

~

 

The little girl, whom Corvus introduced as Ellie, offered to lead them around the outskirts of town to her homestead. 

"You can sleep in our barn," she said. "I'm sorry it won't be very comfortable, but it's warm. Ava here can stay with you, so when I bring food out, my parents will think it's for her."

Gren shook his head. "That's kind of you, Ellie, but surely I could speak to your parents about--"

"No, this is better," Ellie insisted. "Just follow me, and I'll get you something to eat, and I can tell you all about your friends."

"Our friends?" Gren repeated, looking to Corvus.

"She traveled with the princes," Corvus explained. "Took them up on the Caldera."

"And I was there when Zym hatched," Ellie said proudly.

"Who--what--"

"The dragon prince," Runaan said reverently. "Child, you saw it?"

"Uh-huh! And your friend, too. Rayla." Ellie pointed at the elf's arm. "Her hand was like that, but Zym fixed it. He can fix yours, too, I bet. Come on."

 _You follow her,_ Corvus signed to Gren. _I'll be along after I cover our tracks._

 _Do you really think that's necessary?_ Gren asked.

Corvus nodded. "That snowman back there's surrounded by footprints. They must be a couple days old, but I'm pretty sure they belong to the boys. And it's a fair guess Viren's sent someone after us by now."

"Good point."

The wind had kicked up quite a lot since the sun dipped behind the ridgeline. It was too difficult to talk outside, but as soon as they arrived, Gren wanted a full report and explanation. As they followed Ellie, Gren noticed that Runaan was shivering under the cloak they'd given him. Dharti noticed it too; she kept close to the other elf and more than once, it seemed she steadied him over the unstable ground. At length, Ellie brought them to a modest homestead, with a low barn next to a small corral. She opened up the doors. 

"Wait here," she told the travelers, "and I'll be right back."

"I really think I should talk to your parents," Gren began, but the girl interrupted.

"No, this is better. The villagers went after Rayla with pitchforks. Just make yourself warm and I'll be back in a minute.

Inside, a couple of scraggly cows looked up nervously, then returned to their fodder as Ava padded inside. Runaan inspected an empty stall filled with hay, then sank onto it. He did a good job hiding it, but Gren could see his discomfort and fatigue. 

"Wait here," Ellie said. "I'll be back with food."

Gren paced nervously. "This is all highly irregular," he muttered. "There must be some authority we can--"

"The same authority that locked us both in a dungeon?" Runaan quipped.

"No," Gren said, grimacing. But Runaan had a point. It was hard to know who supported Amaya and who was loyal to Viren. Perhaps operating covertly was a better plan.

"The child is right, Gren," Dharti told him gently. "She hasn't been poisoned yet by the lies humans tell. But adults have had time to turn against us."

"It matters not," Runaan said with resignation. "They are days ahead of us. We cannot reach the dragon prince because they continue moving forward, even as we chase them." Then he spoke to Dharti in the Elven language.

Gren couldn't understand what Dharti said, but the emphatic way she cut her hand through the air and shook her head said as much as her tone. Runaan nodded silently and Dharti again shook her head, mouth a tight line. "Absolutely not," she said, this time in Katolian. She returned to Gren's side.

"Perhaps I can convince Ellis to let me take Runaan on her wolf. He's running out of time."

"You believe her?" Gren asked. "That this dragon prince can fix his arm?"

"Don't you?" Dharti countered. 

"I wish I had some better proof," Gren said.

"Why would she lie?" Dharti frowned.

"To impress us? For attention?" 

"I don't think so," Corvus said, joining them. "She volunteered information I couldn't even have thought to ask."

"Yes, how did you wind up meeting her, exactly?" Gren asked him.

Corvus began to explain, but the door opened again. Ellis came in, a sack in her hand. 

"It's not hot," she said apologetically, "but there's plenty." She scooped out dried meat, fruit, and a thick, brown bread. 

"Ellis, tell Commander Gren what you told me about the Princes," Corvus prompted.

"How did the egg come to be hatched?" Dharti asked.

"It was the moon lady," Ellis said, "and Callum's storm."

Corvus shrugged. "Start from the beginning," he suggested, and to the others he said, "and best not to get her off on tangents."

They settled into the hay, eating while Ellis explained how Callum and Ezran had consulted her because of her experience on the Caldera. She told them about their flight from the angry villagers, discovering that the terrors were illusions, and meeting the Lady Lujane.

"A moon nexus," Runaan said, speaking for the first time since her return. "Dharti."

"Ellis," she said, nodding back to him. "Could we borrow Ava?"

 

~

 

"Gren escaped?" Soren asked, before grunting as Claudia kicked him under the table.

"What Soren means is, our Father had planned to arrest Commander Gren on suspicion of treason, like you said," she said, widening her eyes at him the way she did when she thought he was being an idiot. "Did he evade capture?"

Pan nodded uncertainly. "I'm not sure," he answered. "But Lord Viren did say that Commander Gren aided one of the assassins and that they slipped out of the castle."

"Weren't you tracking them?" Claudia asked. "Why didn't you encounter them on the road?"

"I don't think they took the road," Marcos said slowly. "Besides, we've been moving quickly. We didn't catch a sign of them until just this afternoon."

"Well, then, how did you know where they were going?" Soren asked. But then as all three of them raised their eyebrows at him, the answer occurred. "Oh. Right. Claudia's spell."

"Half of Katolis saw that arc in the sky," Marcos observed. "And the other half heard about it the next morning."

They ordered more food and beer. "So, uh, did our father have any particular instructions?" Soren wondered while the new plates were prepared. He really hoped it didn't mean another decision, but he was pretty sure it did. He and Claudia hadn't even finished making the first decision yet.

"He told us to warn you," Pan said, "and that you would appreciate our help. That under no circumstances should Gren be allowed to harm the princes."

Soren glanced imploringly at Claudia. This was getting complicated. His head hurt. He flagged down the innkeeper.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Uh...do you have anything for dessert? Sweets? Like, uh, pie or...pastries or anything?"

"I'm...sorry my lord, no. We do have some raspberry biscuits…."

"Perfect. Half a dozen--no," he amended, looking around the table, "make that a dozen, please."

"Soren, you said we'd get a room tonight," Claudia prompted. "Do you have anything available?" she asked the innkeeper before he could go back to the kitchen.

"Er...yes, yes we have, my lady. I'll just send one of my girls to tidy them up." he scurried away, barely hiding his delight at all this unexpected business.

Marcos caught Soren's eye. "If we're staying here tonight, I'll go check on the horses. Make sure they've been properly rubbed down."

"No, stay and eat," Soren said. But when Marcos's eyes narrowed, he caught on. "I mean, uh, that sounds good. I have to...use the privy." He rose to follow Marcos outside.

Marcos led him around the back of the place, between the buildings where the shadows concealed them from view. Once they had retreated far enough that the moonlight could not reflect off their armor, Marcos pushed Soren against the wall and kissed him hard.

"Are...we still doing that?" Soren sputtered when Marcos released him.

"Do you...have a reason not to?" Marcos asked.

"Uh, no, I guess not. I just--" Soren shrugged. "I thought maybe you didn't--"

"Dummy," Marcos grinned, and kissed him again. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't--uh, doesn't matter. Hi."

"Hi," Marcus echoed. They kissed some more, until Marcos smoothed Soren's hair back and continued, "Now. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Soren protested.

"The pastries?" Marcos accused, eyebrows raised. "You're worried about something. It's not Gren, is it? He's no match for us. So, what's bothering you?"

Soren sighed. If his father had gone to the trouble of lying to Pan and Marcos, then Soren knew he shouldn't admit the truth. On the other hand, his father had no idea how far Marcos could be trusted. "Do you promise not to tell Pan?"

"Okay," Marcos said. He matched Soren's serious expression with one of his own.

After a deep breath, Soren said, "Gren's not the one whose mission is to harm the princes."

"What!" Marcos practically squeaked, but then, checking in both directions rapidly, he repeated in a whisper: "What?"

Soren put his hands on Marcos's pauldrons. "My father...has a plan. He thinks it's the only way to protect Katolis. And, I think maybe he's right, but--but it means...it means Ezran and Callum can't ever come back."

Marcos narrowed his eyes. "But...Ezran's the rightful king, Soren."

"He's a _child_ ," Soren replied. "Do you really think a ten-year-old is going to make the right decisions for the kingdom? Against elves?"

"That's why he'll have a regent."

"Yes, that he probably won't listen to," Soren said scornfully. "No, Dad's the only one who can see us through this crisis. I'm sure of that much."

"Soren," Marcos cautioned. "You know I care about you. But that's treason. You're captain of the guard."

"What if...what if I were the Crown Prince?" Soren asked. It was the first time he'd said it aloud. It surprised him how much he liked the idea.

"That's...still treason," Marcos observed. He backed away a step, removing Soren's hands from his shoulders as he did. "You can't seriously be considering--"

"No, I'm not going to," he lowered his voice even more, " _kill_ them, if that's what you're thinking. At least, I don't think so. We hadn't decided yet."

"You and Claudia," Marcos confirmed.

"Yeah."

Marcos was silent for a long time. He was quiet for so long that Soren got even more nervous. He wanted to reach out again, for comfort, maybe even move in to rest his cheek against Marcos's, but he sensed that he needed to just wait it out. Finally, Marcos sighed. "Did Lord Viren--did your father tell you to do that?" He drew one finger across the base of his neck. "Did he put that on you?"

"Well...he said they should meet with a 'tragic accident.'"

"And what's Claudia's plan?" Marcos asked.

Soren shrugged. "I don't know yet. We hadn't decided exactly what to do before you got here. Except that Claudia doesn't think we should--" he made the kill gesture back to Marcos-- "and neither do I, Marcos. Honestly, I don't. But...I don't think they should come back to the capitol, either."

"And what about Gren?"

"Like you said, he's not really a problem. I'm not sure why Dad sent you out here just to tell us about him. Even if he's with the elf, that guy was in seriously bad shape." He suddenly wanted to kiss Marcos again but he wasn't sure it was safe yet. "It's...good to see you, though," he said slyly. 

"So good you almost didn't follow me outside," Marcos grumbled. But Soren could tell he was charmed by the comment. "Are you certain you're not going to--"

"Guaranteed. Even if I were okay with it, which I'm not sure I am, Claudia would never go for it." He rolled his eyes. "She thinks the Step-Prince is cute."

Marcos raised his eyebrows again, but only said, "We should go back inside. They'll be wondering where we are."

Soren nodded. Marcos didn't wait for him before turning toward the front of the inn. He seemed a little colder than he had been only seconds ago. Or was Soren just imagining it? He hoped he hadn't just screwed up somehow, but he had a horrible feeling that he had. He wished things weren't getting so complicated. As he trailed behind the other soldier, he consoled himself with the thought that whatever Claudia recommended they do would fix everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 2 comes out in a month! SO SOON, can you believe? Squee! OMG, that means I have to write super fast, huh? Well...probably not. I have another deadline to meet by the end of February, so it may be more of a wait than that. Meanwhile: Happy birthday, GREN!
> 
> But the stills are definitely giving me inspiration!
> 
> I know updates have been sparse lately. I've been quite distracted by life, but I am totally chipping away at this fic. Stay tuned, and meanwhile, let's get excited for the actual Season 2!


	11. Act Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a General perceives a new threat; a politician plans his attack; and prisoners seize the opportunities presented by diversions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Should I be grateful that you destroyed that dragon's egg? Thank you for starting this unwinnable war? Thank you for angering the dragons and the elves so much that tonight they are here for my life?** \- King Harrow
> 
>  **Do you have any idea, the dangerous forces gathered at our border?** \- General Amaya
> 
>  **Humans are liars.** \- Runaan

_General Amaya!_ Lieutenant Yansel signed frantically, after banging the table to get her attention. 

_What's wrong?_

_Sunfire Elves, General. They're massing near the rim of the basin._

Amaya rushed from the room, grabbing her shield on the way. Lieutenant Yansel trailed behind as she ran to the nearest overlook. She had not been exaggerating. At least three dozen of the golden warriors arrayed near the edge of the fissure. 

_Muster archers,_ she ordered. _Tell Commander Bowden to ready a squadron, in case they make for the crossing. If we act fast, we can convince them it's not wise to try._

She turned for the nearest steps. Hurtling down at a breakneck pace, she kept her eyes locked on the figures in red and gold who seemed unperturbed by the cascades of magma flowing over the banks just feet away from them. As she scanned the horizon for sign of their planned move, she felt Lieutenant Yansel tense beside her. A moment later, she felt a change in the wind, and tore her focus upward. What she saw made her breathe more uneasily. The dragon was massive, her scales rippling in every shade of fire, from the red-orange of her neck to the black ash of her wing tips, the yellow glow of her underbelly, to the white-hot bursts of the scales at her joints, even a tinge of blue around her horns, eyes, and claws. The gusts from her wings blew the heat of the lavafall into Amaya's face. As if that were not warm enough, the Queen's jaw opened and a jet of flame burst forth. 

It was one of those occasions when Amaya was glad she could not hear, for when she looked around at her troops, they were all holding their ears in discomfort. She didn't need the noise, though, to feel the force of the Dragon Queen's fiery blast. Even all the way across the Breach, Amaya could see the heat waves and smell the acrid odor of ash and smoke.

 _Tell them to hold steady_ she commanded Yansel. _Show no fear. Let them tell us what they want, or see if this is just a show of force. They will attack when they are ready._

 _What should we do?_ Yansel asked, after relaying the orders.

 _Fight, if necessary_ Amaya replied with economy. _But I don't want any of ours to take the first shot, even if they think they've got a chance. Our people will just get hurt needlessly. We watch. And we wait._

 

~

 

Boulara's skin glistened in the candlelight around her bed. Beads of sweat from their exertion formed on her shoulders and arms, as she braced against Viren's raised hands to lean over him for a satisfied kiss. She then tossed herself onto the mattress beside him and pulled up the sheet. It glowed bright against her delicate, dark neck. The twisted, worked metal bands woven through her hair rattled as she settled against him. 

"Lord Protector," she purred. "You know, I do think it's true, power makes men more voracious."

" _You_ make men voracious," Viren sighed. He cupped her chin in his hand and claimed her plump lips again. "So, I can count on you to keep the others in line, while I deal with the Pentarchy?"

"Yes," she assured him, though with a hint of annoyance. "Leave it to me. If we're already back to talking business, however, I take it that means you've written to the Pentarchs of your impending coronation?"

"The moment the Council meeting ended," he confirmed. "And a good deal more. There's not a moment to lose."

"When do they arrive? Opeli will--"

"They don't. We're not waiting for them before proceeding to the Breach. We must defend the border immediately. If we act fast, there's a chance to keep more of our loyal subjects from getting needlessly hurt."

"You mean you'll head for the Breach alone?" asked Boulara, frowning. "Without King Ahling or King Florian?"

"No; I've written them to call them to arms. They're closer to the Breach than they are to us," Viren replied. "As for young Queen Aanya, she will be of little use; Queen Fareeda less so. But Ahling and Florian can get there with all speed, probably in a few days. We shall have to hold off the Elven forces until then."

"But there has been no word of an attack," Boulara objected, sitting up a little.

"It's only a matter of time," he pointed out. "The Moonshadow assassin was alone for a few moments, after he breached Harrow's chambers. He may have been able to send a message back to the Queen, before my children subdued him. If Xadia knows Harrow is gone…." he trailed off. It was still hard to think of his friend, to think about losing Harrow's trust, and then his strength. The pain of their final impasse was a sharp needle in Viren's heart. If only they could have faced this peril together. Instead, Harrow had brought his fate upon himself, and Viren had to protect Katolis alone.

Boulara touched his chest with warm, soft fingers. "You must do what is right for us all," she said supportively. He closed his hand over hers.

"I shall. I have always dedicated my life to this realm." He looked up at her and did not have to lie, saying, "I would have died for him. I had made up my mind to, but--"

"Shh," Boulara leaned forward to touch her forehead to his. "What's done is done. There will be time to mourn later. You are the leader we need, Viren. It does you no good to dwell in regret."

"No, it does not," he agreed. "You're right, as usual, my dear." He ducked his head down to capture her mouth once more, but then slid from her embrace. Grabbing his trousers, he sighed again. "Which means I must go," he announced, and pulled on his breeches and boots. 

To her credit, Boulara did not object. She reached over the bed to hand him his belt as he fastened his tunic. As he turned to her mirror to clasp his brooch, she raised herself onto her knees. It was truly a magnificent sight, he thought, and a pity he could not take his clothes off all over again. "Do promise me one thing," she requested: "You'll come to see me for more than a quick tumble and a strategy session, once in a while?"

Laughing, he told her, "Sweet Boulara. If I do not stay, it's not because I don't want to. But there is much to attend to." He stepped back to the edge of the bed, where she smoothed his sleeves into place with affectionate pets. "It's your own fault. You could have spoken against me and barred my claim."

She shrugged. "Even if I thought you were acting out of turn--and I hope you can see why it alarmed so many--I think we both know that would not have stopped you for long. As I said, you are the leader we need. Mopatis and Jamik are both capable, but they are not--ruthless. And that is what I value about you, my dear one. Once you have found the way, you will not be diverted."

"Oh, there are certainly charms that will divert me," he said with a lustful wink. As a demonstration, he reached out to brush the back of his fingers over her curves. "But when it comes to the future of our people, then no, I cannot afford the luxury of...too much indulgence." His lips hovered a few fractions apart from hers, but he did not grant her another taste. Groaning instead, he stepped backward deliberately. "Which means, I really have to go put our march in motion."

"I understand," she pouted. "And...have you thought of how we'll pay for all this?"

He chuckled again. "That's your job!" he reminded her on his way out the door.

 

~

 

"What do you mean, you don't understand?" said Ezran to Lucilla, in what Callum thought was his best impression of Opeli during their lessons. "I thought I was perfectly clear. Callum, wasn't I clear?"

"I totally got you," Callum confirmed. They had finished supper. Baroness Jessmyn had fussed away all the servants when the meal had ended and the discussion turned to the Countess's regency. Now she hovered near the Countess nervously. Callum did his best to ignore her.

"I don't think it was difficult," Ez continued. "I said, you'll get your letter when we get our dragon."

Lucilla's eyes burned, but she forced a fake smile. "Your Highness," she said, with exaggerated civility, "I'm sure you have some affection for the creature, but believe me when I say it's far too dangerous to--"

"I'll decide what's too dangerous," replied Ezran, "and Zym is only a danger to people who want to hurt him. This is not negotiatable." Callum winced at the mispronunciation, which undercut the imperious tone his brother was trying to affect. "Zym for the letter. That's final. Am I your king?"

"That's beside the--"

"Am I. Your King?" Ezran repeated, and now, he sounded exactly like Harrow at his angriest.

Lucilla flushed nearly purple, but she swallowed and dropped a deep curtsey. "Yes, my liege," she answered. The words were proper, but her tone remained savage.

"Then you will do as I command," said Ezran. 

"I regret to say, that's not possible, Your Highness," came the oily voice of Neglin. He had entered the room from a door to the side of Countess Lucilla's table.

"Yes, it is," Ez insisted. "You just go back to your secret dungeon and--"

"Neglin has no dungeon, Your Highness!" Lucilla exclaimed, tittering with embarrassed laughter. "What a suggestion! Who has been filling Your Highness' head with fairy stories about wizards with dungeons and mice who can sew clothes and such?"

Ezran glowered at her. "I never said anything about mice," he bit out in frustration. "But in my experience, all wizards have some kind of secret lair." He pointed at Neglin. "I know you've locked Zym up somewhere, but you have to let him out."

"But Your Highness, that is completely impossible," Neglin said again. "I'm afraid the creature is--unavailable."

"You're lying," Callum accused. To his amusement, Ezran said so as well, at the same time. "Viren already lied to everyone once, about the egg being destroyed," added Callum. "We're not falling for that again."

"I assure you, no one is lying," Neglin quipped. "I did not say dead, Your Highness; I said unavailable. I have put the specimen--"

"He's not a specimen, he's a dragon," Ezran shouted.

" _It_ is a creature of unspeakable power, none of it good," Neglin fired back without even pausing, "and I have put _it_ into a magic cell of my own devising. It is impossible to break the seal until the conditions of the release are met."

"What...conditions are those?" Callum asked.

"Children such as yourselves would not understand," answered Neglin. Callum thought he had felt condescension before from Soren, Viren, even the occasional guard. They were amateurs compared to Neglin's level of disdain.

"Callum's a mage," Ezran revealed. "He would totally understand it. And I think I have already pointed out that I am your King. So explain."

It was Neglin's turn to go red with frustration. Either they were right, and he had been lying, or he was simply infuriated by deferring to someone as young as Ezran. He could not very well take it out on Ez, though. So instead, he focused on Callum. "A mage? Of what level? Who is your master? Have you learned the cardinal points of inflection for each primal source? How is your grasp of the Runes of Nastaroth? Are you fluent in both Elder and common Draconic? Which books have you committed to memory: The Greater Spells of ArchMage Torian; The Life and Times of Shibago the Fourth, with Assorted Annotations, Observations, and Corrections by Shibago the Fifth; Odincarl the Enchanter's Grand Grimoire; or all three? Are you accomplished in harvesting the essence of a creature to bend it to your will? Have you learned the trick of mirror-speech and can you recite it without pausing? Do you wear the silver annulet of the proficient?"

Callum didn't have to answer. He knew his sullen, embarrassed face said it all. "It's true, I've only just discovered I can do magic, but--"

"Then my assertion stands. You would not understand the first scrap of the necessary spell components. Suffice it to say that an expert has told you the creature is inaccessible." He crossed his arms in triumph.

"You know, you look exactly like Lord Viren when he's decided we're idiots. Do they teach you that particular nasty expression in Mage School, too?" Callum snarled. "Because maybe I don't want to learn all about Sheboygan the Seventy-Second, or whatever." He put one hand on Ezran's shoulder. "The King has told you His expectation; you've told us that it's not possible. Well, no dragon, no letter. Come on, Ezran. I think we've enjoyed as much hospitality as we can stand here. We're leaving."

"I cannot allow His Highness to venture out at night," Lucilla said quickly. "That's a foolish suggestion. In any case, there is no call to insult one of the Crown's advisors. We--"

"He's not one of my advisors," Ezran objected, "and neither are you, Your Excellency, if you don't produce Zym right away."

In truth, none of their stonewalling was surprising. Callum and Ezran were doing some stalling of their own, while Rayla crept around in search of Zym herself. Their job was to keep Lucilla and Neglin focused on them.

"Your Highness is clearly over-tired," Lucilla announced, "and ought to go to bed. Guards, kindly escort the King back to his room."

"You can't tell me to go to my room!" Ezran exclaimed. For all that he had made a credible impression of a grown-up just moments ago, he looked and sounded his age now, maybe even a little younger. 

"As your Regent, I can and will do whatever is necessary to maintain Your Majesty's health," Lucilla told him, ice in her tone. "Guards."

"Hey, was all that stuff you just said real? About the books and the runes and things?" Callum asked suddenly. "Because Claudia's never mentioned--"

"Who?" Neglin asked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"About being a mage," Callum said quickly. Then he did one of the things he did best: babbled. "I mean, I admit I probably never listened closely if she said much about the things she was learning, because I figured I could never do anything like that, but then when I was able to copy one of the spells she did, we realized I can do magic. And it's really awesome to be good at something--something besides art, I mean--and you know, it just never occurred to me that there's actually a system of learning. I mean, it makes sense but--"

"Take them back," the Countess ordered again, cutting him off. A guard appeared by his side. He glanced over at Ezran, who rolled his eyes, but also seemed to be out of ways to stay. They went with their escorts.

Callum remembered the way, having been taken there once and brought back to the great hall again. As they entered the corridor where the room was, he started to speak to Ezran too loudly. "Well, I think we can find the door from here, right Ez? Thanks, guys." 

"Yeah," Ezran added, also raising his voice more than necessary. "We'll just go to our _room_ , it's okay."

The guards said nothing, but also did not go away. 

"I sure am tired," Callum called.

"Me, too," said Ezran. "Guess we'll just go right to sleep, huh?"

"Yup!" They couldn't be certain whether Rayla was back already, but on the chance she was, it was best to warn her if they could.

The guards looked at each other over Callum's and Ezran's heads, but apart from a certain exasperation on their faces, they made no reaction. However, when they arrived at the door, one of them positioned himself so that Callum and Ezran could not go in. His partner opened the door and walked inside. They waited, sweating, while the guard searched the chamber and the bathroom beyond.

"Clear," he said on his way out, and the other moved aside for the two of them.

"Straight to bed, is it?" said the second as he passed. "A word of advice. Don't cross Her Excellency. She has ways of getting what she wants." He waited while Ez and Callum stepped inside. "Garth will be here if you--need anything," he said, and shut the door. They heard the key turn.

 _Window_ , Callum signed. Ezran nodded. He eased the shutters open slowly, leaving them unlatched, but only slightly ajar. With luck, anyone looking from outside would not notice them, but it would allow Rayla back in when she needed.

 _Think Pip's okay?_ , Callum asked.

 _He'll come back_ , Ezran replied. "Callum, I should tell you that--"

The shutters flew open and Rayla swung in, legs first, from above. She dropped to the floor lightly and pulled the shutters back behind her. She grinned, but per their earlier plan, did not speak.

He pointed to the bathroom and they all crowded inside. "There's a guard just outside the door," he explained when they dared talk normally. "Well?"

"Found him," she whispered. "But I can't get to him."

"We didn't get anywhere, either," Callum said quietly.

"Where's Zym?" Ezran asked.

"There's a...a sort of a tower just on the north side of the keep. I think it's intended as a watchtower. The mage's workshop is on the top floor, just below the watch station. It's under heavy guard. I don't think we can get past them all before someone raises an alarm."

"Neglin said he's put Zym under some kind of enchantment," Callum told her. "Did you see anything to suggest he's telling the truth?"

Rayla shrugged. "I couldn't get close enough to find out. I only know he's there because I saw the mage coming out, and servants with raw meat going in."

"If they're bringing up raw meat, then he's not under a spell," concluded Ezran. "They wouldn't feed him if he's behind an 'unbreakable seal' or whatever Neglin said it was."

"Good point. Okay. So, the question is, how do we get him out, if we can't get in?"

"Human Rayla?" Ezran suggested. 

Both Callum and Rayla shook their heads. "I don't think that would work so close up, Ez," Callum said glumly. "What if I ask to see Neglin again? Tell him I want to learn magic from him?"

"He has no reason to take you up to his tower, though," Ezran vetoed. "What if we wait until we're on the road?"

"I don't like it," Rayla said.

"I don't either," Callum agreed, "especially since we don't know when we'll escape, and we'll be traveling the wrong way the whole time, back to Katolis. Ez, I think, we may have to--"

There was a mighty rumble outside, followed by a lot of shouting. The whole room shuddered, as if shaken like a snow globe. Callum looked nervously at the others, then rushed to the window. Ignoring the earlier instruction to keep it closed, he pushed the shutters wide. "I can't see anything," he said.

"Hang on," Rayla declared. She pulled out her blades and hopped onto the sill. "I'll be back," she promised, before hauling herself up to the roof.

Outside their room, they could hear the commotion making its way through the keep. Something big had happened, but they couldn't tell what. An attack? Some kind of accident? Callum went to the door and knocked on it.

"Thought you were going to bed," came the voice on the other side.

"We were, before there was an emergency. What's going on? Is it a fire? An earthquake?"

"I've been right here, same as you, princeling," Garth the guard grunted. 

"Can you find out?" Callum adopted a confidential tone. "Ezran's a little freaked out. I don't think he'll get to sleep until he's sure. Since the attack on Katolis, you know? We can't go anywhere; you've got the key."

There was silence. Callum hoped it meant the guard was considering his logic. "You'll just have to live with the mystery, young prince," Garth growled. "Could be a diversion, so enemies have a chance to make mischief. Could be a ploy so's you can pick the lock and sneak off. No, sir, too many things it could be. If it's urgent, someone will be along to tell us."

"You're awfully, uh, confident about that," Callum complained. "Fine. But if someone does, you'll tell us?"

"If you wish," Garth allowed.

Rayla's feet appeared at the lintel, then her knees, and then she swung inside again. "That is so much easier than climbing up," she commented softly. "Don't worry, no one's even looking at this side of the building. That tower I mentioned? It's on the other side of the keep from here. And half the top floor's wall just collapsed."

"Collapsed?"

"Collapsed." She walked to the bed, stripped the sheet, and took it into the bathroom. She began cutting it into strips, the sound masked by the distance from the door. "If we hurry, we can get out while they're dealing with the disaster."

"But Zym was up there!" Ezran said excitedly. 

"I have a feeling that's _why_ it collapsed," Callum ventured. 

"You're right," said Rayla, smiling. "Half of the people are trying to clear away the stones; the other half are all running around trying to catch him." 

"Think he'll get away?"

"Ez. If Rayla's saying what I think she's saying, he figured out how to breathe fire."

"And fly," Rayla confirmed. 

Callum nodded. Given Zym's rapid development so far, that was only mildly surprising. "Yeah. He'll be okay."

"Well, was anyone hurt?" Ezran asked in a small voice.

"Probably," Rayla said off-handedly. She caught herself. "I'm sorry, Ez. I'm not making light of it. But we have more important problems, and none of these people are our friends."

"Mostly they're not involved at all," Ezran observed. "They're innocent."

"Maybe so, but they're working for someone who's standing in our way," Rayla told him. She tied off two strip ends and twisted them into a rope, first individually one way, then each with the other, the opposite way. "Ez, I know this is hard to hear, but we're not going to get to Xadia without some people getting hurt. And mostly they'll just be people in the way. Zym's given us a chance. We have to take it, which means we have to act fast."

"She's right, Ez," Callum said. "Get Bait and your things. We're outta here, tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extremely rushed chapter, but holy crow, I had to get just _one more_ chapter out before Season 2 drops tomorrow!
> 
> For anyone who's worried: Rest assured, I will definitely be continuing this fic, even when it's entirely Joss'd by the new season. But! It might take a bit to adjust to the new content (and note that I've incorporated a smidge of the spoilers, though I didn't even have room for all the lovely hints we got from the trailer). I'm already rubbing my hands gleefully at some of the new possibilities we'll be getting in...oh, about 24 hours. But in the meantime, enjoy this horrid rush-job of a chapter, my lovelies, and stay tuned! I'll be back once I've figured out how very very off-base I am....


	12. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bonds are loosed; walls are scaled; and roads are traversed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **"There are six special places where the magic of primal energies are most pure and powerful in this world. Such a place is called a nexus."** \- Lady Lujanne
> 
> **"Two heads. Two bites. Two souls held at once."** \- Lord Viren
> 
>  **"Flying is a natural and beautiful thing. Now, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy."** \- King Ezran

Runaan was loathe to admit how much he needed Dharti's steady arm around him as they rode up the Caldera. After she had asked Ellis if the wolf could carry them, they had quickly overruled the humans' insignificant objections. 

"You're not in charge of us, Gren," Dharti had reminded the fresh-faced boy. "Unless you and Corvus want to fight us, we can go as we wish."

"I'm...not sure that's entirely correct," Corvus attempted to say.

"Isn't it?" Dharti reasoned. "Look, it suited all our purposes to travel together, but we're not your prisoners. You're not our companions."

 _"This is pointless,"_ Runaan said to her in their own language. _"Time is of the essence._ "

 _"I agree, time is short, but it is not pointless,"_ replied Dharti. To Gren, she said, "You can catch up to us in the morning, if you want. We'll send Ava home, but if there's a chance to save Runaan, we have to go now. Right now."

"Don't leave until I come back," Ellis said suddenly. "I'll only be a minute." She darted from the barn without waiting for them to finish arguing.

By the time the child returned--more like five minutes later--Dharti had somehow convinced the humans to desist. "Here, you can take these," Ellis announced, holding out heavy coats of fur-lined suede. They were stitched and embroidered like her own; one was a little large for Dharti, but not too roomy. The other must have been her father's.

"We can't take your parents' clothes," Dharti objected.

Ellis shook her head. "It's okay. My mother made Father a new one last winter. And that one's my older sister's. She's married and gone. She doesn't need it. Just send Ava home when you've talked to the moon lady. She knows the way." She blinked up at them, all trust and innocence. 

It made the adult humans' behavior all the more despicable, thought Runaan. Why did they have to start out so pure, only to become so corrupted?

It was a philosophical question more enjoyable to Moroch than to him. But if debating human morals had meant he was home, Runaan would have welcomed the hours of pointless back and forth it might have brought. For now, he had no concentration to spare. Holding tight to Dharti with his good arm, and clinging to the wolf with his knees, was consuming all his strength. That in itself was a worrisome admission. If the moon nexus could not heal him, he knew, it would be too late for another chance.

The road wound its way, doubled back, and climbed ever higher. Runaan could feel the concentration of moon magic as they got closer to the nexus. By the time they reached the top, he was practically thrumming with the moonlight. 

"Where is she?" Dharti asked, jumping off the wolf. 

"It's here," Runaan said, for he didn't need any further direction. He could have closed his eyes and found the entrance to the temple grounds. Which was useful, because it was masked by an illusion that made it blend perfectly into the rock wall. But he followed the pull of primal magic and passed easily beyond the visual barrier. Dharti lost no time coming through behind him.

Where the caldera was bare and rocky, the land inside was lush, green, and still touched by spring. Elegant porches and rotundas dotted the hill. A stone path led upward to the ruins of an ancient henge. Grateful for the surge of energy that being so close brought, he pushed forward.

He barely heard someone call out, questioning their purpose; barely noticed as the stranger gasped and fell in by his side; and certainly barely cared when he heard his name from a voice he did not recognize. He did not stop until he reached the henge. There, he stumbled to his knees.

"Runaan!" Dharti cried. He felt her lift the heavy coat off his back. 

Next to her, he heard the Guardian say sadly, "I told your friend Rayla, I have no magic that can help you."

"I...do not need your magic," Runaan answered through gritted teeth. "Only your assistance to reach the nexus." He pushed himself back to his feet.

Together, they supported him through the archways of rock, until they stood on the overlook above the magnificent nexus. Though the moon was waxing, there was still ample energy filling the massive reflection on the surface of the lake. Runaan paused for a moment to absorb its graceful power and beauty. 

"But what do you mean to do?" the Guardian asked. He did not answer; he merely stepped over the edge and plunged into the cold water below.

From the moment he broke through the mirror-smooth barrier, he could feel the change in his body. Ripples, not just of water, but of moon magic, transferred directly into him through his skin, his horns, teeth, nails--every orifice felt buoyed by the primal source, so that he fairly vibrated from power overload. He almost opened his mouth to scream, but retained just enough sense to know better. He held his breath and kicked upward, back toward the surface. 

Once there, he tipped backward to float, spreading his arms wide. His arm, which had long since numbed, suddenly throbbed again. The pain was a good sign. 

He could hear the Guardian protesting the desecration of the lake, but at the moment, he had more important problems. He was trying to remember what Moroch had told him about making the clasps for the binding ribbon. Silver, pearl, and a touch of _seraphali_ , Moroch had sworn nothing could break them--even a Sun-forged blade. As for the silk itself, it had been infused with cobweb and moonbeam, woven on silver looms with ivory shuttles. According to Moroch, they were equally impossible to cut. But now that they had been soaked in moon-glow, perhaps….

 _"Licet vinctum, ab illicito foedere, discoperiet,"_ he chanted softly. He floated for another minute or two, repeating the incantation, infusing it with his own force of will. _"Discoperiet,"_ he repeated. Then, gingerly, he slid his fingers over the ribbon...and they slipped underneath. The additional stricture was agony--but it proved that the binding could be fought. _"Discoperiet. Discoperiet, discoperiet,_ " he recited, over and over, while he alternately soaked the cloth and worked it down his arm. After what seemed ages, he eased the binding enough to slip it off his biceps. It immediately tightened to the width of his elbow.

He repeated the process, wincing anew as the blood rushed to his upper arm, but the thin strip bit even more uncomfortably into the joint at his mid-arm. He was tiring; the water was getting colder by the minute; and most concerning of all, the moon had marched inexorably toward the horizon. It would set--soon--and he had barely slid the binding ribbon halfway down his forearm. If it bound tight at the wrist, like Rayla's, he would be stuck again. But losing a hand, as he had told Dharti, would likely not be a death sentence.

Just a career-killer.

An inspiration struck him just as he saw the first pink glow of morning on the eastern horizon. Instead of working the ribbon down, he pulled it back up, and as he did, he tensed the angry muscle of his forearm, flexing as hard as he could. The ribbon stretched. He worked it to the widest point. Then folding his hand as narrow as it would go, he immediately pulled down, fast--and the ribbon slipped over the widest part of his hand. He pulled it over his fingers without pausing. The binding shrank into itself, leaving the clasp dangling on a loop that was only as wide as it was. But it was off. He was free.

He nearly fainted from relief and fatigue, but forced himself to swim to the edge. His arm felt like putty; he wasn't sure he'd be able to climb out. Luckily, Dharti had fastened a harness while he had been in the lake. She lowered it to him and he put it under his arms gratefully. It took a combined effort from Dharti, the Guardian, and the Guardian's phoenix to haul him back up. He felt soft grass under his weight. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to pass out.

 

~

 

Ezran held on tight, like Rayla told him to. She had fashioned the rope into a kind of sling and sat him inside it, then hooked the ends into the hinges of the shutters. "Just lean back and walk down the wall," she told him. "The rope will support your weight. When you're ready, we'll lower you out."

But now, barely ten feet down the wall, swinging in a slight wind, and with the sling twisting to bump his shoulder against the stonework, Ezran was not so sure. Inside his backpack, Bait protested his treatment. 

"Callum, do you think you could pull me back up, if you needed to?" he asked plaintively.

"You can do it, Ez. We have to go. This is the only way. Come on, just walk backward." 

"You'd be more worried if it was you," Ezran observed under his breath. He leaned back, fighting against the feeling he was going to fall. Keeping his eyes on Rayla, he eased one foot slowly down the wall, then brought his other foot to meet it. The sling held. More confidently, he took the next step, then the next. 

"That's it, Ez," Rayla said to encourage him. "You're getting there."

"Keep going," Callum added. "You can do it."

Step after step, Ezran guided himself down the wall. He was thankful that the tower was so small, compared to the ones at home, because with each inch, he was closer to the bottom. None too soon, he could see plants climbing the mortar cracks, and then to his great relief, he saw blades of grass. He pushed off the wall and touched his feet to the ground. 

He slipped the rope off and watched it recede to the window as Rayla and Callum pulled it back up. Though he made sure to stay tight to the wall, out of sight, he could tell by looking that he could easily have stood right in the middle of the courtyard and no one would have noticed him. They were too busy cleaning up, and rushing around to help people who were hurt.

A few minutes later, Callum levered himself onto the wall. Instead of a sling, he had the rope around his underarms, and he rappeled in easy arcs. He must have been terrified, but he was hiding it well. Ezran had a feeling Callum had been hiding other things, like how upset he was at losing the primal source, and how much he was missing Dad. To the point where Ezran hadn't even been able to get Callum to listen when he tried to tell him that Dad was a lot closer than Callum thought.

"Rayla's coming down her own way," Callum said when he touched down after his final jump. "She doesn't want to trust the rope without a good anchor."

Sure enough, they saw her slide out of the window and work her way, not down, but up, to the roof, so that she could find another way to join them. 

"We should try to get Zym's attention," Callum said, "without getting ourselves seen."

"We've got a minute or two," said Ezran. "Callum, there's something you need to know. About Pip."

"Pip?" Callum repeated with a frown. "He flew away."

"No, he's waiting for us," Ezran assured him. "Callum...Pip is Dad. Or...Dad is--is in Pip. I don't know how, but it's him."

"What are you saying?" Callum wondered. 

"When he flew in, he told me. The night Rayla and the others came, he says, something happened and--and wasn't in his own body anymore. He's inside Pip."

"Viren," Callum pronounced venomously. "It must have been Viren. That's why he wouldn't let me in when I tried to talk to Dad."

Ezran nodded. He didn't know until just then that Callum had been thwarted, but that didn't matter now. "I think we shouldn't tell anyone else for now. Maybe there's a way to bring him back."

"I'm not sure whether we should keep it a secret or not," said Callum, "but I do know we're gonna have to think about it later." He then contradicted himself by lapsing into silence for a long moment.

"Callum?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just--he's really in a bird?"

"That's what he said," Ezran answered with a shrug. "I know it's really weird."

"It's...really weird, yeah." He was quiet again, lost in thought. Then, with a forced deep breath, he shook himself back to the present. "Uh…. Right. Where's Zym and Rayla?"

Ezran scanned the yard. "Zym's over there!" he exclaimed, spotting the white dragonet near the gate. He was trying to fly, but having a great deal of trouble getting wholly airborne. Still, he was reversing direction enough to keep the Countess's people at bay. 

He wasn't breathing fire, though, which was disappointing. Ezran couldn't wait to ask him how he'd gotten out of the tower without mastering the trick of it.

"Maybe we should figure out another diversion," Callum blurted suddenly. "Give him a chance to get away."

"Like, set a fire, perhaps?" came Rayla's voice behind them. "Yeah. Did that."

As if on cue, the cry went up through the yard. Zym was forgotten in the rush to fetch water and douse the flames. 

"Out is this way," Rayla continued. She pointed toward the far side of the tower, back toward the gate. "You two go; I'll collect Zym."

"No, I'll go--" Ezran volunteered.

"If they see you, they'll put you back in that tower," Rayla insisted, "and I don't want to waste more time getting you out again. We'll be along. Go."

"Okay," he said reluctantly. He moved in the direction Rayla had indicated. Maybe Pip--Dad, rather--would be somewhere outside waiting.

"Is Pip really Dad?" Callum mused again as they snuck away from the scene. "I mean, his...mind? How does that even work?"

"I don't know," Ez admitted. "But it means he's not dead, and that's all that matters."

"Yeah," Callum agreed. "It's...not quite the same as being okay, though."

"No. Not quite." Ezran swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat. It wasn't the same. It wasn't like Dad could hug them, or protect them, or tell them things would be all right. And he certainly couldn't take care of things--of Viren, of the Countess, or anything about the kingdom. And the worst part was, his body was gone--it had to be. Everyone thought he was dead, which meant his _body_ was dead. So...even if they could pull the person who was his father--who was the king--out of Pip's body….where would it go? Ez didn't know, and he didn't know how to even go about asking. It felt too big to contemplate. In every imaginable way, he was gone--except that he wasn't.

He was still preoccupied with circular thoughts when Rayla and Zym came rushing alongside him and Callum. "Let's go, go go," she chanted brightly. "No time to lag behind." 

No one stopped them. Within minutes, they were out of the gate and heading down the road again. They were free. Zym continued to flutter for a few paces before falling to the earth again. He grew tired of his bouncing, wobbly progress, and the next time he rose into the air, he gripped Ezran's shoulders with his talons. It hurt for a moment, while Zym settled his weight, but after the initial sharp prick, he relaxed. It was no worse than supporting Pip after that.

"Think they'll put out the fire?" Ezran asked, mostly to change the subject of his thoughts. But as King, they were his people, too, not just Lucilla's.

"I hope so, eventually," Callum said, "but the longer it takes them, the more time we have to get away." He sighed. "I do wish we'd found a way up to that tower, though."

It took Ezran a moment to realize what Callum was talking about. "Oh, you mean to see what kind of magic Neglin had?"

Callum nodded. 

"But...it would have all been magic like Viren's, wouldn't it? Why do you want--"

"Not necessarily," Callum answered. "He could have had a primal source, like Claudia. And she knows loads of spells that aren't…." he trailed off.

"I know she's a friend," Ezran told him softly. "But Callum, she still does the same kind of magic as Viren."

Callum sighed again. "Maybe. But maybe there's a way to do magic without that."

"Without a primal source?" Rayla said, taking interest. "No one can do magic without something that has magic in it, though."

"You're saying it takes magic to do magic," Callum surmised. "That makes sense, but it doesn't explain where the magic comes from in the first place." He shook his head. "I'm not giving up. I'll figure it out."

"How far should we go tonight, Rayla?" Ezran asked, again feeling like a shift in topic was appropriate.

"I know you're tired, Ez," Rayla replied, "but we've got to get far enough away from that keep before we stop."

"Well, I am kinda tired," admitted Ezran, "but that's not why I asked. Zym's hungry again."

Rayla groaned. "Let's make it over that ridge," she requested, "and into that little crop of woods. Then you can rest and I'll find Zym some food. All right?"

"All right."

They walked on, amid the night-time sounds of insects and field mice. Ezran's head seemed overfull, still, and walking in silence left him with nothing to distract him from his confusion, but he was too tired to force any kind of conversation. He concentrated on taking step after step. Callum occasionally put his hand on Ezran's shoulder, but seemed not to want to talk, either. Even Rayla appeared focused and unusually aloof, uninterested in anything except the path ahead. The only one of them who seemed to enjoy the journey, in fact, was Zym. He rode happily on Ezran's shoulders, alert and curious about everything they passed. 

When they crested the hill, Rayla pointed them off the road and toward the trees. It wasn't a massive forest like the one near Katolis City, but it was big enough to hide them if Lucilla had sent anyone after them. As they crossed fields wet with dew, they heard a bird's cry. Pip--or rather, Dad--circled above them. He spiraled lazily, keeping pace in the downdraughts. When they entered the woods, he hopped from tree to tree to stay with them. 

"See, Zym?" Ezran commented as he watched his father in bird form. "That's flying. You should try it."

"Just a little further," Rayla promised. "As soon as we find a source of water, we'll stop."

"Wait a minute," Callum said suddenly. He dug in his pack for the rune cube. "Would this help?" He turned it in his hands until he found the ocean rune. 

But Rayla shook her head. "I don't think it works like that. It only glows if there's a source of magic somewhere, remember?" She held her hand close to it and the moon symbol glowed faintly. "Lucky for you, I know how to find what we need. Come on."

"Maybe if I really concentrate…" Callum plodded after them, focusing intently on the cube and its water carving. Ezran glanced back at him.

"I think maybe there are too many magical creatures for it," he ventured. "Rayla's the moon, Bait's the sun, Zym's sky… I wonder what's making the star one light up."

"The star one?" Callum asked excitedly. He flipped the cube over. "Oh, yeah! I see...." He traced the rune with a finger. "Weird. I mean, Rayla's right. It reacts when it feels the pull of primal magic. I wonder what could be…."

"Perhaps it's all the Starlore elves," a new, odd voice said in their ear. She spoke quietly, but her voice carried clear through the night. Ezran and Callum both startled. Even Rayla froze. 

They were surrounded. About six elves, male and female, had emerged from the trees, weapons drawn. Like Rayla, they had pale hair, but their horns were dark like the night around them. Pearlescent flecks shimmered against their dark blue skin. They were clothed in shades of purple, indigo, and black, with silver and white trim. 

"We received a message from the Guardian of the Moon Nexus," the leader continued, addressing Rayla right over Ezran's head. "She said a young Moonshadow elf was traveling with the Dragon Prince and--two _humans_." Her tone took on a mix of disgust and bemusement. "Tell us, if you are the ones she meant: What is her name?"

"The Lady Lujanne," Rayla answered. "I am Rayla of Clan Caeruluni, and these are my friends: Ezran, Callum, Bait, and Zym."

"Azymondias," the leader of the Starlore Elves intoned reverently. She bowed to the baby dragon. "Your Highness. We are all very pleased to see you." As her companions also bowed, she looked to Rayla again. "You are not safe here, however. Come. We'll take you to Treetop."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, I'm back with another update!!! Sorry it's been so long. This chapter was written a while back, but I hadn't had time to re-watch and collect Season 2 quotes. And then I had life, which was inconvenient but necessary. But never fear, we will continue!
> 
> For those of you thinking, "But they're called StarTOUCH elves" - I know. It's okay. I Have A Plan. 
> 
> Stay tuned....

**Author's Note:**

> I am departing from my usual pattern and posting chapters as I finish. That may change later as I get further along and it becomes more important to be able to adjust previous chapters. But we'll see!
> 
> A note on rating: I have decided to keep this general rating, but if and when opportunities arise for scenes that might not adhere to the rating (I'm not ruling anything out, but no major plan so far!), I will probably post them as outtakes or additional related fics, under whatever rating is appropriate.
> 
> If you like this, check out my other fics here on AO3, or follow me on Tumblr @gwenlygrace.


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